


Game Over: a Be More Chill fic

by emospaceman



Series: Game Over [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dialogue Heavy, Eventual Smut, F/M, Feels, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, meremy feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 32,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12108180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emospaceman/pseuds/emospaceman
Summary: Things have been going downhill for Jeremy ever since he got rid of the Squip. So after uncovering some long-buried feelings for his Player 1, Jeremy does something he knows he'll regret.





	1. Tutorial

Hey guys! This fanfiction is based on a Christine headcanon that my good friend MissLivX and I had a little while ago. It takes place a few weeks after the musical leaves off, so it's full of sweet post-squip angst.

Also, small disclaimer, some of the Jeremy stuff in here is musical-canon and some is book-canon. I can't remember a lot of which is which. For example, Jeremy singing to himself (and being a huge dork in general) is book-canon. The backpack thing is musical-canon. But don't worry, I will not touch book-Michael with a 39 1/2 foot pole. Anyway, if you haven't read the book, I highly recommend it!!!

**(Content warnings: sexual content, strong language, homophobia, anxiety, abuse, dysphoria, vomit, alcohol, self harm** \-- I'll put warnings on the specific chapter for the graphic bits.) 

Hope you enjoy!!

~Michael


	2. Level 1

Jeremy froze. His heartbeat pounded in his ears and he licked his lips nervously as he looked down at the little matchbox he held in his hand. He completely forgot he had this.

Michael had called him a few minutes earlier to see if he wanted to come over and play a new game he'd just purchased -- _Apocalypse of the Damned II: Dead's Revenge_. Jeremy had eagerly accepted, hung up, and thrown on some real clothes before swiping around in his top drawer for a pair of socks. He dug down to the bottom, past his Pac-Man boxers and a few pairs of briefs before coming across the little box.

His hands shook slightly as he pressed on one side of the box, opening it just enough to ensure that the tiny pill was still inside. It was. The unused Squip buried in his sock drawer was the only proof he had that last month's disaster was real, and not just some nightmarish fantasy he'd had. Sometimes he wished it was just that, and sometimes he managed to convince himself not to think about it.

Jeremy shut the box, shut the drawer, and shut it out from his mind. He took a deep breath. _Forget socks, forget the box. Take a walks._ He chuckled to himself as he slipped on his Converse over bare feet. _I'm a poet and I know it_.

He hurried downstairs and paused at the door, meaning to call out a goodbye to his dad before remembering that he wasn't home. Jeremy was still getting used to his father having a real job. His dad now worked at the local family-owned video store, where Michael, a regular and a friend of the owner, was able to pull some strings. As glad as Jeremy was, it was weird not having him around the house all day. He shrugged and set off for Michael's.

Jeremy hummed to himself as he walked, and made up lyrics in his head. _Goin' to Michael's, gonna play a new game, no party to hit 'cause we're totally lame..._ Two things hit him at once with a sharp sting: first, memories of the Halloween party, then the realization that this was the first time he'd sang to himself since before the Squip. The Squip had refused to let him do anything that dorky, and gave him a sharp spinal stimulation any time he tried.

He continued through the field, running his hands through the tall grass. It was a great shortcut, the same one he took every morning, as Michael lived only about a half a mile away in the same direction as the high school. He zipped up his hoodie against the cool November air, though the chill wasn't the only thing making him shake at the moment.

Jeremy strolled up the familiar driveway for the millionth time, and his phone went off just as he was about to knock.

PLAYER 1: doors open, i'm in the basement

Jeremy should've known, of course. He'd walked into this house unannounced countless times. But he'd been a bit more careful around Michael since the play, and Michael had noticed, and went along with it. Jeremy was grateful for that. He quickly replied.

PLAYER 2: i'm Heere

Jeremy's footsteps echoed in the seemingly empty house. He reached the basement, stepped into the room and --

" _Ow!_ " An empty soda can hit him square in the face. "What was that for!?"

"You know exactly what for, _Heere_. First of all, you've already used that pun. Second of all, it's fucking _awful_." Michael fell back on his beanbag chair dramatically for emphasis.

Jeremy laughed, rubbing his nose. He took his place beside his friend, in his own chair, where his controller was waiting. Two lights blinked on the top to signify Player 2, as usual.

Despite Michael's brief protest, they played through the tutorial. The controls were exactly the same as the first _AotD_ , which earned Jeremy a teasing "I told you so". After the painstaking beginners' walkthrough, LEVEL ONE flashed across the screen. Then, below it, the title _Zombies in the Bathroom_ faded in and out of view.

The screen darkened. The music swelled. The first zombie appeared.

The Super Mario theme played.

Jeremy groaned at the sound of his ringtone before pausing the game and pulling out his phone. A picture of his girlfriend lit up the screen as he answered.

"Hey, Christine," he began, answering Michael's silent question, _who is it_?

"Hey Jeremy! I was, uh, I was wondering if you... well, I wanted to talk to you about something." She sounded too casual, and yet too tense.

Jeremy picked up on her tone and decided to proceed carefully. "Do you want to talk on the phone, or..."

"Well, I would rather talk, like, face to face, honestly." Uh oh.

"Right now?" He hoped his voice didn't shake too noticeably.

"If you can. We could get some frozen yogurt, if you want, and... just talk." Christine was starting to sound a bit more anxious. At least Jeremy wasn't the only one.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll meet you there?" Jeremy ran his fingers through his hair nervously. Michael placed a hand on his back, sensing that he needed the comfort.

"Yeah, seeya soon!" Way too cheerful. They exchanged goodbyes, then Jeremy hung up and sighed in frustration.

"Everything okay, dude?" Michael's brows drew together in concern.

"I don't know, man... Can you drive me to the mall? Christine said she needs to talk to me. In person." Hearing himself say it made the dread burrow even deeper into his stomach.

"Yeah, no problem." He stood and stretched, then offered a hand to Jeremy.

They walked to the front door in silence. Jeremy's mind shuffled through the possible scenarios like a deck of cards. _Three of hearts, she dumps you because you're ugly. Ten of diamonds, she dumps you because she's gay. Six of spades, she dumps you because she thinks you're gay_. Every scenario had one thing in common: him leaving as a single man. He wiped his palms on his jeans and chewed his lip. Michael threw an arm around his shoulders. Jeremy sighed miserably. He wished he was still in the basement, still playing that stupid zombie game. Still blissfully unaware of whatever Christine was about to say.

They slid into Michael's black Cruiser, and Jeremy noted how the slamming of the car door sounded an awful lot like he was slamming the lid on his own coffin.


	3. Level 2

The drive to the mall was a quiet one; Jeremy didn't seem to want to talk, and Michael didn't want to be pushy.

Jeremy actually very _much_ wanted to talk, especially to Michael, but he feared that if he opened his mouth he'd burst into tears or something else equally embarrassing. Michael could sense that in the way Jeremy laced and unlaced his fingers on his lap and occasionally sighed as though he was looking for the right words. But he also knew better than to start the conversation himself, so he instead casually suggested that Jeremy pick the music.

Jeremy smiled gratefully and fumbled around in the glovebox. He found a Bob Marley CD within the diverse stack, which featured music from Metallica to Marley to the soundtrack of Mulan. Popping in the Marley CD, he skipped right to track four and cranked up the volume.

"Hell yeah!" Michael cried, breaking into a grin. "This is our _song_!" He sang along with reckless abandon, in some form of comic relief, as Jeremy smiled weakly and tapped his foot from the passenger seat. He nudged Jeremy with his elbow at the chorus.

" _Don't woooorry... about a thing... 'cause every little thing... is gonna be alriiiiiight..._ " He gave a pointed look to his Player 2.

Jeremy nodded. He was used to Michael saying through music what he couldn't in his own words. He was almost always listening to music, usually through one earbud (while talking to someone) or his noise-cancelling headphones (when his anxiety was acting up). The boys would share earbuds all the time, and sometimes, while listening together, Michael would pause the music just to repeat a particularly profound or relatable line out loud. Jeremy loved it, though he was never very good at returning the favor. He preferred using his own words, no matter how hard he stumbled over them. Michael didn't seem to mind.

Jeremy was pulled out of his thoughts by the mall's appearance in the windshield. The dread that had subsided filled him once more as they pulled into the parking lot.

Despite it being a Sunday afternoon, they found a spot fairly easily. They parked at the exact moment _Three Little Birds_ ended for the third time, prompting a smile from Michael.

"Love when that happens," he said softly, then shook his head and looked over at Jeremy. "You okay, Jer?"

"I -- not really, but... I'll be fine, I think," he stuttered.

Michael reached over to ruffle his hair. "Don't worry about a thing, Heere. I'll walk you in if you want."

Jeremy agreed and they walked through the parking lot, Michael's arm draped around Jeremy's shoulders as Jeremy struggled to keep it together. He knew he was being ridiculous -- he and Christine had only been together three weeks -- but that didn't stop him from burying his face in the taller boy's hoodie as he fought off tears.

Suddenly, the warm air and fluorescent lights were washing over him, and Michael was pulling away gently.

"I'll meet you at Spencer's?" he suggested.

Jeremy nodded, still afraid to speak, and Michael pulled him into a quick hug before leaving hesitantly.

He took a deep breath and started towards the frozen yogurt place. The Yogurt City sign came into view, hanging over his head like an anvil in a cartoon. Christine sat alone in the back corner at a table for two.

Jeremy remembered their first date: lunch, just the two of them. They went to Christine's favorite little Italian place for pizza. He brought her a rose, and she smiled widely, blushing. When they left, she forgot it on the table.

A few days later, he brought her a chocolate Shakespeare figurine he'd found on the internet. The first time he tried, it had melted in his pocket, but this time he was more careful. She had accepted it graciously with a bear hug and a peck on the cheek. He glimpsed Brooke eating it later at lunch.

Jeremy didn't like the pattern he was seeing.

Christine smiled and waved him over. He sat down across from her, taking her hand shakily. She placed her other hand on top of his, in a seemingly comforting gesture, but he knew (from some psychology documentary Michael told him about) that it was subconsciously an effort to establish dominance in this conversation. Jeremy tried to counter that by speaking first.

"Christine, I... I like you a lot, a-and I'm so sorry if I did anything to -- "

"No, no no no! No, Jeremy, you didn't do anything wrong, you don't have to apologize. This is all me. _I'm_ the one who should be sorry. Just... let me explain?" She looked as if she might cry, too. "Please?" Jeremy took a deep breath and nodded.

"Do you remember what I told you before? About finding myself?" she began. He nodded again, slowly. "Well... that never just disappeared. It's not that I didn't want to date you, I didn't want to date _anyone_ , because I needed to love _myself_ before I loved somebody else."

She paused, and closed her eyes briefly like she was trying to remember something, then continued. "You're amazing, Jeremy. You're going to be an _incredible_ boyfriend to somebody soon, but not to me, not right now. We just want -- _need_ \-- different things. I think you need somebody to hold and kiss and bring roses and chocolates to, and I need somebody to push me to my limits and make me a better person."

She looked into his eyes, and Jeremy realized it was the first time she'd done that since he arrived.

"I need to grow. You need to plant roots. I get that, I promise, and maybe someday we'll need the same thing, and we can work something out. But right now -- " Tears suddenly spilled onto her cheeks. Jeremy reached up and wiped them away gently.

"Right now... I'm _lost_ , Jeremy. And you... you're _amazing_ , but... you're not a map." She bowed her head, the way she always did when finishing a monologue. Knowing Christine, she'd rehearsed this more than a few times, anyway.

Jeremy pulled his hand out of hers. "I... don't know what to say."

"Jeremy, please don't be mad. I really wanted this to work, but... there's not much of, like, a _connection_ , like I thought there was, and I _like_ you, a lot, but -- I...I'm sorry." She seemed to have run out of scripted words.

"I wanted it to work too. But there's a difference between _wanting_ it to work and _making_ it work. I actually _tried_ , Christine. I brought you flowers and chocolates and I tried to make you feel the way you make _me_ feel, and you threw that away. You're throwing that away." Jeremy stood up. Christine grabbed his hand.

"Jeremy, don't leave, please, don't be mad, I --"

"You made me happy, Christine. That's all I wanted for you, but I guess I wasn't enough. I guess you preferred me when I was an asshole." He jerked his hand away as hot tears began to fall. Christine was saying something, but he couldn't hear her. He was already out the door.


	4. Level 3

"I can't believe her!" Jeremy fumed. Michael passed him the joint.

"Me either, man." He barely flinched as Jeremy suddenly hurled his empty bottle into the street and watched it shatter. He planned on talking to him more seriously later, making sure he would be okay, but for now Michael knew Jeremy just needed to blow off steam. That's why they were on Michael's front porch step, armed with a lighter and a box full of memories.

After Jeremy stormed out of Yogurt City, the boys had left the mall in a hurry. Michael didn't need to ask what happened; he knew it was nothing good. He brought Jeremy home, instructing him to collect anything he had that reminded him of Christine, then drove him right back to his own house before Mr. Heere got home from work. Michael stole a few bottles of beer from the fridge (his father wouldn't notice -- he never did), rolled a joint, and got down to business. He told Jeremy that burning keepsakes was a great way to release anger at somebody. He _didn't_ tell Jeremy about his prior experience with this activity.

Michael grabbed the box beside him and opened it before he could think too much about the night of the play. "Okay. Things that remind you of That Bitch," he began. "A program from _Romeo and Juliet_."

"Ugh, freshman year." He snatched it from Michael's hand. "Burn it."

Michael clicked his lighter so Jeremy could light the playbill. He let the fire spread over the paper for a moment, then reached for the second item with his free hand.

"A birthday card?" he inquired.

"I chickened out on giving it to her last year, so I kept it." Jeremy paused to take a hit, and muttered through the smoke. "Then I chickened out on giving it to her _this_ year. I never got rid of it, though."

Michael held out the card and Jeremy ignited it with the burning program. He watched the flames curl around both, charring "Happy Birthday!" and destroying "STARRING CHRISTINE CANIGULA AS JULIET". The boys let the papers burn in silence until the fire was nearly singeing their fingertips and then dropped them onto the grass.

Michael took a third item from the box. "A tissue?" He looked at Jeremy in confusion before realization flashed across his face, then shock, then disgust. He dropped the tissue and wiped his hand on his jeans in a panic. "Ew, _gross_ , Jeremy, why the fuck would you keep that!? When I said 'things that remind you of Christine' I didn't mean -- "

"No, _no_! That's -- not -- " Jeremy's face flushed red as he snatched the box back. "You can't seriously think -- " He quickly unwrapped the tissue to reveal a little red rose corsage.

"Oh," Michael laughed in relief. Jeremy smacked him on the arm. " _Ow_! Jerk. Jerk... _off_." That earned him another smack.

"Fuck you." Jeremy tried and failed to hide his laughter at his friend's fake hurt expression. Michael pulled a deeply offended face at the idea of being laughed at and gave Jeremy a playful shove, which only made him laugh harder, sending them both into a stream of giggles for a good minute. Jeremy collapsed against Michael's shoulder as he struggled to get a grip. Finally, they both sighed, seemingly finished, but then Michael snorted and started the whole thing over again. By the time they really _were_ done, Jeremy was actually starting to feel a bit better.

Jeremy laid his head back on Michael's shoulder. His face fell suddenly as he held up the corsage. "It, uh... it was for the winter dance. Next weekend." Tears threatened to spill. "I was going to ask her -- " His voice broke. He was crying now, and he knew he wouldn't be able to stop. Michael noticed immediately.

"Jeremy." He wrapped his arms around the smaller boy and held him tightly.

This only made Jeremy cry harder. "I-I was going to a-ask her... a-after school Monday... tomorrow, I m-mean... sh-she told me she loves dancing," he sobbed. "I saw it a-at the mall... I couldn't p-pass it up... she-e loves roses... she would've looked s-so beautiful..."

"Shh, I know. I know." He held Jeremy tightly and rubbed his back. "It's okay."

"It's j-just that... I never thought... it w-would be over s-so _fast_." He pulled away and wiped his eyes. After a few deep breaths, he continued, with Michael listening intently, genuinely. "I did everything right. Not _before_ , but... but after everything else, after the play... and even before, I did all that shit for her. All of it, the play, the lies, the fucking _Squip_ , all of it! I mean, maybe I wasn't the _perfect_ boyfriend, but I tried really hard, and I thought she'd see that, but she didn't, and I just -- I -- just -- _ugh_!" He threw another bottle in frustration. His chin quivered and tears filled his eyes again.

"I know, Jer. I know," Michael soothed. "I'm sorry."

Jeremy shook his head. "No, you didn't do anything. It's my fault. Everything was my fault."

"It wasn't all your fault, Jer. A lot of it was the Squip, and..." He trailed off, searching intently for the words. "' _You are what you love, not who loves you_ ,'" he sang softly.

Jeremy took a deep breath, finding the courage to speak, albeit hesitantly. "I don't know what I love. That's why the only time anything was going right for me was when I was Squipped. I wasn't a nobody. I wasn't the loser. It was the only time they really _loved_ me. Chloe and Brooke, Rich, Jake. That's when I felt like I knew who I was, and it _was_ who loved me."

"That wasn't love. If they loved you then, they'd still love you now. Love isn't because of how cool you are, it's because of how _lame_ you are." Jeremy looked confused, so he explained, "We're pretty lame, right? But we stick together. As losers. That's what I mean, like, they don't love you, _I_ love you."

Michael stopped. His eyes widened as he realized what he'd just said. He tried to play it off. "Not -- I mean, not like, in a gay way, you know. Whatever. But _you_ love _me_ too, and that -- that's better than being popular, right?"

Jeremy couldn't keep the smile from blooming on his face. "You _love_ me."

"Don't make fun of me. You love me too, asshole."

"Yeah, but you said it."

"So you admit it! You love me!"

"What? You're gay _and_ delusional."

"I -- I'm not _gay_! You're gay!"

"You're like the king of all homos, dude. Look at your -- " Jeremy cut himself off with a long yawn. " -- your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair, Sleeping Beauty?" But then he yawned too, so they decided to go back inside.

They headed back down to the basement, where Michael sat on the floor and Jeremy lay his head down on his lap. He let Michael stroke his hair as they listened to quiet but upbeat music. The "no homo" was implied, and the rules were a bit stretched from the weed and the beer anyway. At least that's what Jeremy told himself.

He looked up at Michael, leaning back against the wall, mouthing the words to something Jeremy had never heard before, eyes closed, his hand tangled in Jeremy's hair. He just looked. Something inside him wanted Michael to hug him again, or lean down and kiss his forehead, or even just _look_ at him.

As if reading Jeremy's mind, Michael glanced down. Jeremy looked into his eyes for a beat longer than he should have, but Michael just smiled gently down at him. He blushed and closed his eyes. _Friends don't think about friends that way, do they?_ Jeremy thought as he began to drift off. _Friends don't want friends to let them fall asleep in their arms, or to kiss their forehead, or to stare deep into their eyes as they inch closer, until finally their lips connect... at least, straight friends don't._

Straight. Friends.

_Fuck._

This could be a problem.


	5. Level 4

Jeremy's eyes fluttered open. The first thing he realized was that he wasn't on the floor; he was on something much softer and warmer. The second thing he realized was that Michael wasn't there.

He sat up, ready to frantically search the room. But no, he was there, right beside him on the other beanbag chair.

"Gooood morning," Michael smirked.

Jeremy blinked away the sleep in his eyes as his friend came slowly into focus. He'd tossed his hoodie somewhere beside him, and was leaning back on the chair in just his jeans and the chest binder Jeremy had gotten him last Christmas. He set aside the math homework he was busying himself with and adjusted his glasses.

"Wait -- what time is it?" Jeremy demanded.

"Like, nine-thirty."

"At _night_?" He jumped up and was about to run upstairs to look for his shoes, but Michael grabbed his arm. "My dad's gonna kill me, I have to go home, we have _school_ tomorrow -- "

"Hey, chill, bro. You've got _literally_ nothing to worry about, okay?" He tugged on Jeremy's arm to get him to sit back down.

Jeremy obliged. He didn't know how Michael had taken care of everything, but somehow he believed him.

Michael passed him a Sprite as Jeremy calmed himself. "Your dad called earlier. I told him you were sick, like puking and stuff, and didn't wanna walk home. So he was like, 'why not just drive him home?' And I was like, 'would you want Jeremy ralphing all up in _your_ car?' And so long story short, he called us both in sick and you're staying here tonight. Oh, and I ordered a pizza."

Jeremy raised his eyebrows, impressed. Michael was right, he really had _nothing_ to worry about -- not his dad, or homework, or seeing Christine at school. Even dinner was figured out. "Damn," he muttered, and cracked open the soda. "You've done this before, huh?"

"Yeah, you know I call in sick all the time. Not as much since you bought me this" -- he gestured at his chest with a grin -- "but still. My dad probably thinks I've got -- well, uh, you know. Something." Michael still smiled, but the rest of his face darkened. Jeremy knew why, but didn't bring it up. He knew Michael hated talking about what happened to his mother; it hurt too much. Jeremy could understand that, at least.

"Yeah. Well, hopefully my dad believes that _I've_ got something, or we're both in deep shit."

"I think you should talk to Christine," Michael interrupted.

Jeremy was taken aback. "Wait, what?"

"Sorry, I don't wanna be a dick, I just... I think you should leave it on better terms than -- than that, you know?"

Jeremy nodded slowly. "Yeah, no, I know what you mean. I should text her. No, call her. No, it's kinda late." He looked at Michael pleadingly. "Help?"

The doorbell startled Jeremy from his frenzy.

"Text her, but like, ask when you can call her," Michael reasoned, snatching a crumpled tee shirt from the floor and throwing it on.

Jeremy grabbed his phone from its place on top of the TV. "See, Michael, this is why you're the smart one."

"That makes you the pretty one?" Michael laughed. He hurried up the stairs as the pizza guy rang the bell a second time.

Jeremy shouted after him, "And you wonder why I keep calling you gay!" He sent Christine a quick "Call me?" and followed Michael up to the living room.

"Y-yeah, hi," he was saying. "Ten? Ten dollars. Okay, uh, here's... that... and uh, here's a tip. Uh, thank you." He closed the door, leaned back against it, and sank to the floor melodramatically as Jeremy reached the top of the stairs. "That was exhausting. I just lost ten years of my life."

"You okay, man?"

"Yeah, I'm good." He put one earbud back in (he must have removed it while answering the door) and took a deep breath as Jeremy dropped down next to him and opened the pizza box.

"Well, _I'm_ \-- " The Super Mario theme cut him off before he could say "starving". He groaned and looked at the screen, which flashed "Christine" and a little heart, before answering on the second ring.

"Christine?"

"Hey... are you okay?" She sounded genuine, at least.

"Yeah." He held a finger to his lips to keep Michael quiet and switched the phone to speaker, setting it on the floor gently. "I just wanted to talk to you."

Christine hesitated. "Okay, shoot."

Jeremy sighed quietly. A million things to say buzzed through his head, and he was prepared for an entire impromptu speech to pour straight from his heart into the receiver, but when he opened his mouth, all that he could choke out was "I'm sorry."

And then, Christine said the thing Jeremy least expected. "It's okay."

He blinked in surprise. "R-really?"

"Really. I forgive you."

"I just... I was..." He collected his thoughts. "I overreacted. You're not the bad guy here, Christine. You didn't do anything wrong. You're just trying to figure yourself out, like -- like you said, and that's great! I hope you _do_ figure it out. I-I'll help, if you want, if I can. Because -- I'm sorry, I'm really _really_ sorry, and I don't want to lose you. As a friend. Christine... I love you."

"Jeremy -- !" Michael cut in.

" _Platonically_! Platonically. I love you, as a friend." He punched Michael in the arm, hard.

"Was that Michael?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, he's yelling for me. The... the pizza's here. Anyway, what was I -- "

"Jeremy, _stop_."

"What?" He went pale.

"Stop apologizing!" she giggled. "You don't have to be sorry -- I _dumped_ you, you're _allowed_ to get mad. Listen to me, Jeremy: I'm not upset with you."

"Oh! Oh. Okay, so are we -- are we cool?"

He could hear the smile in her reply. "Yes. We're definitely cool."

"Great! Great, I'll see you Tuesday then?" He was grateful they didn't have any classes the next day; his absence would seem less suspicious and more like bad timing in the hall. 

"Yes! Definitely. We're friends?"

"Absolutely! Okay, uh... seeya!" Jeremy was overjoyed.

"Bye! Oh -- and Jeremy?" She dropped her voice to a more serious tone.

"Hmm?"

"...I love you too. Platonically!" _Click_.

Michael let out a cheer and went for a high five, but Jeremy was already tackling him to the floor in a crushing hug. He gasped in surprise. Hearing Jeremy's giddy giggles, however, he let himself be overcome by the contagious laughter. The boys lay there together in relieved hysterics until Jeremy pulled back a bit, worried that he was overstepping his no-homo boundaries. Michael looked up at him from the floor. He smiled almost drowsily. Jeremy didn't know why, but he had the overwhelming impulse to lean down and kiss his best friend. He blushed. _Maybe it's just the heat of the moment_ , he hoped. _Emotions on high_.

Disconcerted, Jeremy rolled off of Michael and lay next to him. He changed the subject more for his own benefit than Michael's. "Okay, now I really _am_ starving."

They brought their dinner down to the basement, Michael joking and laughing like always, but Jeremy a bit more distracted than usual. Terrified thoughts fluttered around his head.

 _Am I gay_? The question rang through his skull. _I can't be gay. I like (liked?) Christine. But what if I like Michael? But I can't like Michael. He's my best friend, and he's straight. I'm straight. Think of what my dad would say. He'd probably kick me out if I was -- if I_ am _gay. But am I?_

He looked over at Michael, who was passionately explaining the difference between the Koopa and the Bowsers. Michael was leaning forward in his seat, eyebrows set, nodding his head occasionally, the way he always did when he got particularly into a conversation. But Jeremy noticed it with more clarity this time. He smiled. Even if he _was_ gay, he figured he could handle it, as long as he had his Player 1.


	6. Level 5

Jeremy locked the bathroom door and began dialing the phone frantically. _What was I thinking? I definitely can't handle this!_ He had excused himself to "brush his teeth and stuff" because he was panicking at the idea of being attracted to anyone other than a girl (other than Christine, really), and needed to talk to somebody. Of course, he couldn't talk to Michael, so he went for the next best thing: Richard Goranski. 

Jeremy and Rich had become pretty close recently. After the play, they'd started talking about the Squip and their own reasons for deciding to try it (for Jeremy, it was loneliness, and Rich originally just wanted to get rid of his lisp -- before discovering what else the Squip could do). They'd had a very heartfelt conversation, and from then on they just clicked as friends. In fact, they now texted almost every day. Rich showed Jeremy that he didn't have to be popular to be in good company, and Jeremy helped Rich see that his speech impediment didn't define him or make him any less cool. "It's pretty endearing, honestly," he'd mentioned once. He realized now that maybe this wasn't a strictly heterosexual observation. 

"Hello?"

"Rich!" he whisper-shouted.

"Bro, it's like... late," Rich groaned. 

"I know, I'm really sorry, but I'm freaking out a little." He realized he'd woken up Rich and kicked himself for being rude. 

"It's okay, dude. What's wrong?"

"I..." He wasn't sure, exactly. "You're bi, right?"

"If you're asking me out right now -- "

"No! No, I just wanna know more about it. I'm curious." Jeremy held his breath, hoping he wasn't being rude or too blunt. 

Rich was undeterred. "Well, bisexual means you like guys _and_ girls. I see a hot dude, I'm down to fuck. I see a hot chick, I'm down to fuck. Everyone is hot and it's awesome."

He felt a little flustered at Rich's choice of words, but he persisted. "Yeah, I know _what_ it is, but can you... kinda... explain?"

"Alright, it's like this, Jeremy." Jeremy could picture him sitting up on the edge of his bed, ready to ramble. "It's a little weird, I'm not gonna lie. When I get the hots for a girl, I feel like... _'hot damn'_. And when I meet a guy I'm into, it's like ' _holy shit_ '. Ya feel me?"

Jeremy thought back to Christine. Whenever he saw her, it set off fireworks behind his eyes. He wanted to hold her in his arms and never let go. He wanted to make her the happiest girl in the world.

He thought of Michael. He'd never let himself believe it before, but when Michael touched him, flowers bloomed in his chest. He felt warm and full of laughter he could barely contain. He wanted Michael to hug him tightly and kiss his forehead and sing him to sleep. 

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean," he finally said, shaken. 

Rich could hear the anxiety in his response. "Hey, man, if you're bi, that's totally cool," he said carefully. "I mean, lots of people are. It's not bad or weird or some shit."

"Yeah," Jeremy muttered. "Thanks."

"No problem, dude. You can talk to me about it if you want."

"I'll definitely take you up on that later, but Michael is downstairs, and..." He realized too late how suspicious that sounded. 

"Oh. Oh!" Rich laughed. "So, Michael, huh?"

"N-no, I didn't say -- "

"It's cool. I'm not picking."

He was furious at himself for blushing so profusely. "Thank you. I... guess I have some stuff to figure out, huh?" 

"Yeah, man. It'll work out though, no matter if you're bi or gay or a chick or whatever. It'll work out." 

"My dad would probably kill me if I told him I wanted to be a girl," he laughed, though he meant it.

"Worse comes to worst, you can crash at my place, aight? I'll even take you shopping for girl clothes."

Jeremy couldn't tell if he was serious. "I'm not a girl, but thanks. Seriously, thank you." He heard Michael coming up the stairs. "I gotta go."

He hung up, then wet his face to help the blush from earlier go down. He'd been in there a while and he knew it wouldn't look good if his face was all red when he came out -- Michael had already accused him of jacking off one time that day, and he didn't need any more embarrassment.

As he swung open the door, Michael stood there, fist up, about to knock. He had already changed into his pajamas. "Oh, hey." 

"Hey, Jer. Whoa, dude, your face is all red. And you were in there a while. And you're sweating." He laughed a little nervously. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, actually," he lied, "I'm... not really feeling very well."

"Oh. Karma's a bitch, huh?"

"Yeah." Jeremy placed a hand on his stomach and grimaced slightly in an effort to be more convincing. 

Michael bought it. "Oh, man, it hurts? Lemme check your forehead. If you got a fever I'll get you, like, some Tylenol or something. C'mere." 

Jeremy stepped closer. Michael brushed his fingers over his forehead before shaking his head slightly and pressing his lips to Jeremy's temple.

He pulled back. "You're pretty warm, actually. Do you want anything? Like some water, or more Sprite? There's cold ones in the basement." Michael barely noticed that Jeremy was frozen in a shocked and mortified expression. 

"Did you just kiss me?"

Michael brushed it off and explained away the incident. "No! Well... kinda? Your lips are more sensitive to heat than your hands. Saw it in a documentary. Anyway, did you want another soda?"

"No, I'm good, I just need to sit down I think." His lie was (ironically) more convincing now that he was shaking like a leaf and blushing harder than ever before. 

Michael helped him sit and then sank down beside him. Maybe karma really was coming back to bite him -- he wasn't sick, but the room was spinning and everything seemed a little too warm. It took a moment to realize that it was because Michael was holding him. 

Jeremy relaxed into his arms as his mind wandered to the Squip in his sock drawer. He'd never seriously intended on Squipping himself again, but in times like this, when he felt lonely and lost and afraid, it always seemed like an option. Maybe it would be easier to have someone telling him exactly what to do. 

Michael rested his chin on Jeremy's head, pulling him from his thoughts. He didn't need a Squip to make him feel loved. Michael loved him. Michael was _there_. 

"I've got you, Jer. You're okay." He rubbed Jeremy's back soothingly. Jeremy closed his eyes and fought tears for the hundredth time that day. 

Michael had him. He was okay.


	7. Level 6

Monday went by in a blur, since the boys woke up around noon and spent the day relaxing in the basement anyway. Jeremy went home in time for dinner, after he claimed to be feeling much better, though his stomach was still churning with anxiety from the night before.

Tuesday began like any other. Jeremy had performed his usual morning routine and, after clearing his internet search history, set off for school.

As he walked through the door, he was greeted by Rich and his friend, Jake Dillinger. Jake, Christine's ex-boyfriend ( _her OTHER ex-boyfriend,_ Jeremy reminded himself bitterly) and certified jock, did not particularly like Jeremy. The feeling was mutual, but at least they had something in common now. 

"Hey Rich! Hi, Jake," Jeremy added. 

"Hey, tall-ass! How's the weather up there?" Rich jested. 

"Cloudy with a chance of fuck off," he returned. 

Jake looked a little concerned at their style of friendship but managed to ignore it. "So, how are... things?"

Taken aback by Jake's attempt to be polite, and unsure whether to return the favor or shoot back something sarcastic, Jeremy hesitated before responding. "Um... things are... pretty okay. You?"

"Good! Pretty good. I uh... I heard about this weekend. I'm sorry, man." Jake seemed genuine, so Jeremy decided to play nice too. 

"Oh, no, it's -- it's fine, we're cool." _How did he know about that_? He decided he must have talked to Christine. 

"That's great!" Jake looked at the clock, attempting to be casual about it, but coming off a little overdramatic. He was never a great actor, anyway. "Oh, man, I gotta get to class. You know how Ms. G can be." He hurried away. 

Jeremy scoffed. "Well, if that wasn't the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Did you _see_ him? And we still have fifteen minutes before class." He noticed that his friend was paying no attention. "Hello? May I speak to Richard, please?"

"Wha? Oh, sorry, man. I spaced out."

"You did not, you were staring at Jake's ass," Jeremy laughed. 

Rich shrugged. "It's a nice ass. You're allowed to agree, you know, now that you've embraced the gay."

Jeremy shushed him in a panic. "Nobody knows about that, okay? And I'm not gay."

"Half gay."

"That... has not been confirmed." 

Rich patted him on the back. "Dude, my gaydar went haywire the first actual conversation we had. Remember, in the bathroom? I told you about the -- the thing, and I could just _tell_. It's a gift, really," he rambled. "The only problem is, I can't decide whether to use my powers for good or evil."

"For good." Jeremy cleared his throat, face already turning red. "Do you think there's a chance... that Michael might be a little, uh... you know?"

"Gay?" Rich laughed. "Everyone's a _little_ gay, Jeremy. Take you and me, for example." He paused. "Bad example. Take _Christine_ for example. Don't you think she'd jump Brooke if she had the chance?"

"Well, uh, Christine isn't really interested in _anyone_ right now."

"Right, right, sorry, she only has eyes for you, yeah? But still, I -- "

"No, not for me." Jeremy sighed deeply. "We broke up this weekend."

"...Oh. _That's_ what Jake was talking about. I'm sorry, man, I didn't mean to open any wounds." Rich's eyes darted behind Jeremy for a moment. Then he seemed to be struggling to hold back laughter. 

"What's so -- "

"No, really, dude, I am so, so, so sorry, if there's anything I can -- "

Jeremy felt a sudden weight and went down like a ton of bricks. "Ow, what the _hell_?"

Whoever had just jumped onto his shoulders was laughing hysterically. "Gotcha," he managed to choke out. 

"Michael!" Of course. Jeremy tried to sound stern, but his own laughter was getting in the way. "I'm having a conversation here."

"Yeah," Michael laughed, helping Jeremy up. "What're we talking about?"

Rich cut in. "Jake's ass."

"No, _you_ were talking about Jake's ass. _I_ was just... uh... listening." Jeremy couldn't believe it. He'd somehow made it worse. 

Michael didn't seem to notice Jeremy's mortification. "Nice," he said, giving Rich a high-five. 

Rich grinned. "C'mon, Jeremy. Answer this, one dude to another -- would you tap that?"

"I -- uh -- "

" _Hey, Michael_!" Brooke interrupted. "What's up?"

Jeremy sighed in relief too soon. "Not much, just talking about Jake's ass," replied Michael. Brooke nodded profoundly. 

"Can we get _off_ the topic of Jake's ass?" Jeremy pleaded. 

"Not when it's _right there_ , in tight gym shorts," said Brooke. "Booty at ten o'clock."

The three friends stood there watching Jake rifle through his locker. They huddled together, making quiet remarks, as if they were studying a painting at an art museum. They were positively enthralled. Jeremy just rubbed the bridge of his nose, exasperated. 

"What's _wrong_ with you people?" he muttered to himself. He glanced up at the group, then had to do a double take as he saw Jake shut his locker and turn towards the girl approaching him -- _Christine_. 

Jeremy watched as they started talking. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying, but Jake seemed a bit more nervous than he usually was around her. Christine looked fairly casual, at least until she did what Jeremy least expected and burst into tears. 

Without hesitation, Jake folded her into his arms, stroking her hair. It reminded Jeremy of how Michael had reacted to the him-being-dumped news. He realized that this behavior very plainly said "I love you". Jake loved Christine, and he was sure she loved him, too. Jeremy shook his head in disbelief as his heart sunk. 

How in the world was he supposed to react to this? He turned to Michael, meaning to ask for help, or comfort, but Michael was deep in conversation with Brooke and Rich about some upcoming concert. 

Jeremy just stood there. He felt as if the floor had dropped out from under him and landed him in a glass jar, forced to watch what was going on around him without being able to do anything about it. And now he was running out of air, about to panic, or cry, or _something_. 

He was trapped. He was lost, and stuck, and alone. Worst of all, he longed for some kind of instruction -- the kind of instruction a certain supercomputer could provide. If he were still Squipped, he wouldn't be feeling this way. A Squip would tell him _exactly_ what to do. 

And right now, he honestly, truly didn't know what to do.


	8. Level 7

_(A/N: TW for vomit towards the end)_

How long had he been pacing back and forth across his room? Jeremy had no idea, but he knew it was too long to be normal. He'd been pacing and thinking and trying to figure out what his next move was going to be. Suppress his feelings? Probably. Ask out Michael? Unlikely. Seek therapy? 

Jeremy collapsed onto his bed with a frustrated groan. He closed his eyes and tried to quiet his mind, which was buzzing once more with thoughts of what he could possibly do at this point, when everything seemed to be crashing down around him. Christine loved Jake more than him, Michael loved _girls_ more than him, Rich was always busy, his dad didn't care, his mom was gone, and there was nothing he could do about any of it. 

Unless... He shook the little box in his hand, feeling the pill roll around inside. How did he end up here again? How did he sink so low as to think that this was the solution? After all that had happened the first time -- all of the problems it had caused, the pain it had put him through -- _why_ would he want to come back to that?

Jeremy sat up, thinking hard. Why had this Squip fallen into his lap like that, anyway? The first one had cost him hundreds of dollars. The second one cost him peace of mind, sure, but he never had to buy it. No, this one just sort of... _appeared_. Jeremy had found it in his pocket the day after the play, and he had no idea where it came from, but he decided to keep it. _Why_?

Now, of course, he realized that it was probably put there by one of his Squipped classmates during the play. The Squips' goal had always been to spread like a virus (" _That's just the beginning_!" echoed in his mind). Maybe this was the plan all along; maybe the Squip knew that he'd find the pill in his pocket and torture himself over it until finally deciding to take it, and starting the revolution all over again. Jeremy did not want to be a part of that.

Then again, what was the worst case scenario? The worst thing he could think of was the Squip taking control like it did before, but even then, he knew he had access to Michael's Mountain Dew Red if he needed it. Especially if Jeremy's plan worked. 

He sat up and held his face in his hands. This was too much thinking for one person. Jeremy took out his phone and dialed Michael with one hand, while the other fiddled with the source of his anxiety. Maybe his Player 1 could ease his conscience. 

Michael answered almost immediately. "Hello?"

"Hey, Michael!" Jeremy began brightly. 

"What's up, man? Everything okay?"

Jeremy tried to ignore how rushed Michael sounded. "Oh, yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to say hi, maybe talk about that new game -- "

"Uh, Jer?" Michael interrupted. "I'm really sorry but now isn't a great time. I'm... I'm kinda on a date."

"Oh." Jeremy's heart sank. Without thinking, he asked, "With who?"

"Brooke." Michael laughed nervously. 

"Oh. Okay, no problem. I'll see you later, man."

"Bye."

Jeremy hung up and hoped he had sounded a lot more casual than he felt. The last of his hopes vanished as he threw his phone against the opposite wall with a loud _BANG_. Why couldn't anything just be easy? Why couldn't Jeremy be straight? Why couldn't things have worked out with Christine? Why, why, _why_?

He could barely breathe due to the crushing weight on his chest, but he gathered his strength, slipped the matchbox in his pocket, and all but sprinted downstairs. Christine wasn't there, Michael wasn't there, Rich wasn't there, his father wasn't there, his mother wasn't there. Christine, Michael, Rich, Dad, Mom. None of them would care. Jeremy knew what he needed to do, and now was his chance. 

He dug to the back of the refrigerator, past week-old Chinese takeout and empty pizza boxes (his dad was an awful cook) to a glass bottle, half-full of soda that was probably as flat as water at this point. Mountain Dew -- the good, old fashioned, regular green kind. 

Jeremy paused as the memory of his first time taking a Squip hit him. Michael had tried so hard to talk him out of it, but Jeremy didn't listen. He wanted people to love him so badly he left his best friend behind. 

_This is ridiculous_ , Jeremy thought, setting the bottle on the counter. _I can't do this again. I'm not that selfish, am I_? He picked it up again. _But is it really selfish? I know what I did wrong last time. I left Michael behind. But I won't do that this time. We can both be popular. And I won't feel so lost all the time, and he won't have to feel that way either. And maybe we can even be_ together _and neither of us will feel lame anymore._

Jeremy went up the stairs slowly, his thoughts becoming more tangled with every step. "Am I really doing this?" he wondered aloud as he entered his room. 

Yes. He was. He had to. 

Before he could think about it too much, Jeremy swallowed the pill and chugged the stale soda. 

Immediately regretting his decision, he bolted to the bathroom. He knelt on the floor and stuffed his fingers down his throat. He choked and gagged. His mind raced. _Shit shit shit what have I done what the fuck have I --_

"Ow, _fuck_ , no, _no_!" A familiar blinding pain sliced through Jeremy's skull. 

"Target male inaccessible. Calibration in process. Please excuse some mild discomfort."

Jeremy clutched at his head, gasping for breath as he tried not to fall over. It felt as if someone was driving a knife through each of his temples and twisting them mercilessly. 

Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the pain was gone. 

"Calibration complete. Access procedure initiated."

Jeremy gulped down air, overwhelmed with relief for a split second before he remembered --

"Oh, _sh --_ "

"Discomfort level may increase."

Jeremy let out a piercing shriek. He gave up on staying upright and collapsed to the floor as tears squeezed from his eyes. The small part of him that was still coherent hoped none of his neighbors were calling the cops. 

"Accessing neural memory. Accessing muscle memory. Access procedure complete."

The pain faded once more and Jeremy sat up, shaking violently. The familiar voice rang through his head. 

"Jeremy Heere. Welcome to your Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor: _your Squip_."

He hugged his knees and choked back a sob. This wasn't right, this was not what he wanted. Three words played on repeat through his mind:

_I fucked up._


	9. Level 8

"God, it's _you_ again," Jeremy groaned. The Squip was exactly as he remembered -- same face, same hair, same annoying arrogant robot voice. 

"Your neural memory indicates that an introduction of my features is unnecessary, correct?" The Squip began. 

"Uh, yeah, I know the drill."

"And I should assume my default settings, correct?"

"It doesn't matter," said Jeremy. "This was a mistake." He stood and left the bathroom, shaking his head. "I need to find Michael..."

"According to your neural memory," the Squip recited, standing stiffly, "Michael has been your best friend since elementary school. You have extensive knowledge of his likes, dislikes, insecurities and mannerisms. He shut down your Squip last time you had one. Recently, you have been experiencing romantic and sexual feelings for him, which -- "

Jeremy cut him off in a hurry. "Wait, wait, romantic, sure, but _sexual_? No, no no no, I just -- "

"You can't lie to me, Jeremy, I'm inside your brain. Surely you remember that from the last sexual situation you tried to deny thinking about. Besides, I can see what you're picturing right now, and it's certainly not PG." He paused, scanning once more. "I didn't know you had a furry kink."

The Squip smirked at the furious blush that came over Jeremy's face. "You're embarrassed. Don't be embarrassed, blushing is a sign of weakness. If you want to be at the top of the social food chain you cannot show weakness."

Jeremy retrieved his phone from his room and started down the stairs as the Squip followed. "I can't just _stop blushing_ , I..." The Squip waved a hand over his face and, to Jeremy's surprise, his face cooled instantly and the blush was gone. "H-how did you... I didn't know you could do that."

"I can do much more than that, Jeremy," the Squip laughed. "You never allowed me to showcase my full physiological potential, which is why destroying me now would be a bad decision." 

Jeremy stopped halfway down the staircase. "I know what you're doing."

"I'm trying to stop you from making a mistake."

" _You're_ the mistake, and I have to fix it, so if you'll just shut up and _let_ me, I'd really appreciate it," he huffed, continuing downstairs and to the front door. The Squip stopped him from leaving, and instead directed him toward the couch.

Jeremy began to panic at the loss of control. "No, not this again, _please_ , I don't want -- "

"Calm down, Jeremy." He made Jeremy sit on the couch, unable to move any more. "Allow _me_ to state my case and then, if you still want to, I'll allow _you_ to retrieve the Mountain Dew Red without resistance. I won't even say another word about it once you've decided, if you wish."

"You really think I believe that?" Jeremy spat. 

The Squip sighed heavily. "I _know_ you believe it." He sat next to Jeremy. "I _know_ that you possess a very trusting personality. _I'm inside your brain_. How many times must we go over this?" 

Jeremy was silent. 

"Okay, then it's settled." The Squip clapped his hands together and stood up, ready to monologue. "So, you implanted me for the primary purpose of helping you access a romantic and sexual relationship with the target male. In short, you want the two of you to be boyfriends, correct?"

Jeremy began to nod, but stopped. The Squip scanned through the thoughts that followed, which went like this:

_He could be mine but not really him (that is NOT Christine) Christine broke up with me Christine doesn't love me Michael loves me but Michael doesn't love me the same as I love him but he could but it wouldn't be him but would it be worth it I don't want to lose him I don't want to lose him I don't want him to lose himself I don't want this I didn't want any of this I want him to need me it hurts to look at him it hurts to be with him it hurts it hurts he's not mine I wish he loved me like I do I wish he --_

"If I may interject," the Squip interjected, "I see that you're having doubts about me, and about Michael. But perhaps I can ease your anxiety." He used his finger to draw a sort of flow chart in the air as he spoke, which appeared before Jeremy in a trail of light not unlike a long exposure shot of sparklers on the Fourth of July. "You" -- he drew a circle with a J inside -- "want to gain access to Michael" -- another with an M -- "but this access has been compromised by Brooke" -- another with a B, right beside the M -- "so the obvious solution is" -- he drew a large X over Brooke's symbol -- "to outperform the competition."

"You're not going to kill Brooke like you killed Eminem, right?" Jeremy blurted out. 

"I didn't kill Eminem and I'm not going to kill Brooke," the Squip replied patiently. "I'm going to make you more appealing to Michael than Brooke is. It shouldn't be difficult -- Michael is much more accessible than Christine ever was."

"But... Michael's straight. So that won't work," Jeremy dismissed. He tried to stand but was unable. "Can I get up now?"

"I'm not finished. Jeremy, I am a computer. I compute. It's what I do. And I can tell you with absolute certainty that there is an eighty-three percent chance that Michael Mell is gay."

Jeremy rolled his eyes. "More like seventeen. I'd trust the inverse since he's on a date with a girl _right now_ ," he scoffed.

"I know he is," said the Squip, raising an eyebrow. "But given the variables I've gathered from your memory, there's only a thirty-eight percent chance that their relationship will last longer than a week."

Jeremy tried to stand again, and was again stopped. He sighed in frustration. "Look, if I give this a shot, will you stop spitting statistics at me?"

The Squip just smiled for a moment. "I knew you'd come around. Jeremy, I have a plan. If you follow this plan, there is a very high probability of Michael falling head-over-heels in love with you, if you'll pardon the outdated cliche." As an afterthought, he released Jeremy from the couch. 

Standing and stretching, Jeremy nodded. "What's the plan?"

"There are a few steps, but they're simple enough." Jeremy nodded again, so he continued. "Step one is to distance yourself from Michael. Not too much, but noticeably. I'll guide you in this. The goal is to make him think you're upset with him, which, in a way, you are, because of Brooke."

"That's the opposite of what I want," said Jeremy, exasperated. "I don't want distance, and I want him to _like_ me, not be mad at me."

"The goal is not to make him angry, it's to make him crave your attention. From what I've gathered of his personality and your friendship, he will not be angry. He will be worried that he's done something to upset you, and approach you about it. That's where step two comes in and you will divulge a secret that will give Michael the urge to comfort you."

"We don't have any secrets, we -- "

"Tell each other everything, yes, I know. I'll invent a secret based on the situation the confrontation takes place in." The Squip brushed him off and moved right along. "Step three is actually the easiest -- physical contact. You two are not shy about platonic intimacy, so it shouldn't be a problem. You'll just have to imply that it isn't quite platonic anymore. Again, I will help with the specifics." 

Jeremy was skeptical. Could this plan work? Was it possible to make Michael fall in love with him that easily -- three simple steps? He wondered if it would work on anybody or if it was specific to Michael. 

The Squip answered his thoughts. "It is specific, to an extent. These steps will only work if the potential for a romantic relationship already exists. But now is not the time to worry about that; step one is about to begin. Do not answer the phone."

Jeremy's phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, already knowing it would be Michael. He stared at the screen, wrestling with his own thoughts. _Do I pick up? Do I listen to the Squip? How much do I really trust him after what happened before?_

The Squip heard all of these thoughts but didn't bother to answer them. He knew the odds of Jeremy following the plan. The Squip watched over Jeremy's shoulder as he came to a decision. 

He didn't answer.


	10. Level 9

_(A/N: I've been waiting for this moment the entire fic._

_LEVEL NINE --  
THE CAFETORIUM!!!!)_

Jeremy took his tray back to the table. Thankfully, Brooke had a different lunch period Wednesdays, so Jeremy sat beside Michael at their usual spot; no matter how counterintuitive that seemed, The Squip had explained that since they'd been sitting together for years, suddenly breaking the pattern would be too suspicious. So he was told to sit next to Michael, but avoid talking to him as much as possible. "Don't worry," the Squip had said. "I'll take care of everything." 

The parallel to Michael's own words was not lost on Jeremy.

The plan went fairly well, with Jeremy focusing his attention on Rich most of the lunch period. Of course, Jeremy couldn't actually focus -- his mind was on Michael the whole time. But the Squip stood behind him and told him exactly what to say to convince Rich he was listening. 

_Michael is looking at me. Is he about to say something?_

"It doesn't matter. In a moment, say 'I completely agree' as if Rich had just pointed out that the sky is blue," the Squip instructed. 

Jeremy only caught this much of Rich's story: " -- and so I said, that is _not_ how you win an argument. The best thing to do at that point is to just give in and buy the fuckin' hamster wheel."

"I completely agree," said Jeremy, nodding solemnly. 

_Michael seems upset. I'm making him sad -- I can't keep doing this._

The Squip reassured him. "It's for the best, Jeremy. I promise. The next time Michael speaks, ignore him."

_I can't._

"Trust me."

_...I can't._

Right on cue, Michael spoke up. "I'll be right back, guys, I have to go take a break from binding. Sorry, my back is killing me."

"No problem, man," said Jeremy, waving goodbye as he watched his friend cross the cafetorium. He couldn't help but smile as Michael entered the _men's_ room -- he remembered how hard it was to convince the principal to let Michael transition at school. Jeremy had helped him win that fight, helped him write emails to his teachers telling them to correct his name on their roster, and helped him pick out an all-new wardrobe as soon as he'd come out. Jeremy was fully supportive, although Mr. Heere was still unaware. He had to be. If Jeremy let anything slip, he'd never be allowed to --

" _Ow_!" Jeremy's thoughts were interrupted by a shock to the back of the head. 

"You good, man?" asked Rich. 

"Yeah. Funny bone," Jeremy echoed from the Squip. 

"Sorry, I had no choice," the Squip sighed. "You have to pay attention to me; I was instructing you and you were oblivious. I'll repeat myself. When Michael returns, don't make eye contact. Remember, the aim is to make him crave your attention."

 _But I crave_ his _attention._

"You're going to have to... how do I say this delicately... suck it up, buttercup. It'll be worth it later." He looked up. "Here he comes. Remember, no eye contact."

Jeremy obeyed this time, barely glancing up at Michael as he returned. _This is torture_ , Jeremy whined. _His eyes are too pretty to not look at. I feel like I already forgot what they look like._

"No, you haven't, you're picturing them perfectly," the Squip said dismissively. He suddenly crossed through the table to where Rich was sitting and stood behind him, then got right up in Rich's face, waved his hands around, and stuck out his tongue. Rich was completely oblivious, of course, which made Jeremy giggle. The Squip smiled. "I could have just told you to laugh, but that wouldn't have been as convincing."

Rich was laughing too, presumably at his own joke. Michael only smiled halfheartedly down at the table. 

_This is going to be harder than I thought. He's breaking my heart over here._

"Don't think about how you're making him feel right now." The Squip sat next to Jeremy and threw a holographic arm around his shoulders. "Think about how you'll make him feel in the future when you finally confess your love." 

Jeremy sighed inwardly and imagined the moment very briefly before he was interrupted again.

"Stop blushing."

 _Sorry. That time it's on you, though._ Jeremy collected himself for a moment, then thought, _I seriously can't keep this up._

"'Shit, I just remembered, I gotta go. Mr. Reyes needed me to help staple all those scripts for the freshman one-act,'" said the Squip. "Then leave in a rush."

Jeremy gasped. " _Shit_ , I just remembered." He stood and collected his things frantically. "I gotta go. Mr. Reyes needed me to help staple all those scripts for the freshman one-act," he repeated. Rich and Michael said their hurried goodbyes and Jeremy bolted. 

The Squip directed Jeremy to the upstairs boys' bathroom, where they could talk in private. They slipped into the biggest stall as Jeremy locked the door behind them and began pacing back and forth. 

"I can't do this anymore. I know I barely even started, but... I can't keep hurting him like that. Every time I see his face I feel so guilty, like -- like last time. I'm so scared he's going to get mad at me and I'm going to lose him for good." Jeremy rounded on the Squip. "I can't _manipulate_ him like this! He's never going to fall in love with me if I keep being such a jerk to him. And if he does, it won't be me, or it won't be _him_ , it just -- " He sighed. "It won't be the same."

Jeremy stopped, realizing how quiet the Squip had been this whole time. He usually would've interjected by now, but he just stared at the floor in concentration, silently. 

"Uh... Squip?" Jeremy tried.

The Squip looked at Jeremy as if he was crazy. "Don't... address me like that, it's awkward." He composed himself. "I'm calculating. I'm re-routing, like a GPS when you make a wrong turn. Oh, and don't respond out loud."

 _I made a wrong turn_? Jeremy thought as the stall door next to his slammed shut. 

"No, _I_ did." The Squip rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Jeremy... there's a problem with the original goal we had in place. We thought that what you wanted was Michael. But now that some unforeseen outcomes have surfaced... you've changed your mind without realizing it."

Jeremy was unsure of where he was going with this, but it made him nervous. _What do I want, then?_

The Squip shook his head. "You have to tell _me_ or I can't make it happen. It's in my programming. Really think about it, Jeremy. What do you know as of now, and how do you feel about it?"

Jeremy began to pace again. _I know that I love him, even though it hurts. And I know that I want to be with him, but can't, which hurts, because he's with Brooke, which hurts. I know that I have a chance, but that involves hurting him, which hurts me. Basically, I'm fucked and in pain. The reason I took you was to get him to like me, but now that that won't work, I need to figure something else out. I need..._ He froze, his face falling as the realization hit him. _I need out_.

The Squip nodded solemnly. He placed a hand on Jeremy's shoulder. "You want me to help you get over him."

_Easier than getting under him, at this point._

"Do not try to make jokes," said the Squip. "You're in emotional distress, mostly because you know exactly what I am about to suggest."

Tears pricked the back of Jeremy's eyes, because of course the Squip was right. Jeremy knew what he had to do if he wanted to get over Michael and ensure his own future happiness -- happiness for _both_ of them, really, because God knows how Michael would react if he found out Jeremy was pining over him for so long. _So long_. Jeremy thought back to the year before, and before that, and before that, and couldn't think of a time when he wasn't in love with Michael. Of course, he never admitted it to himself. He'd suppressed it for years. But now it was all pouring out and he couldn't stop it. 

"But you _can_ stop it," the Squip pointed out. "You know the next course of action. All you have to do is say the word, and this will all be behind you. You'll never feel this kind of pain again -- not because of Michael, anyway. I can fix this. And I know you want me to, I can see that. So, Jeremy, would you like to do the honors?"

Jeremy sighed, resolute in his decision. He assured himself that it was for the best. Not only that, it was his only option.

He looked down at the floor as the tears began to fall.

"Optic nerve blocking... _on_."


	11. Level 10

That night was the best sleep Jeremy had in a long time. He wasn't sure why he felt so light and worry-free, but he enjoyed every second of the refreshing rest and sweet dreams.

He woke up in a great mood. There was no unrecognizable burden weighing on his mind like there usually was, no butterflies in his stomach at the thought of going to school and seeing -- who? It seemed to be on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite place it. Still, better to be blissfully unaware than knowingly anxious, he supposed.

"Morning, slugger," the Squip greeted. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, actually!" Jeremy beamed. He stretched, threw on his old Eminem shirt and some jeans, and got ready for the day, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he was forgetting something.

The feeling only grew stronger throughout the day, but Jeremy worked past it. He was completely unaware of how hard the Squip was working to block Michael from his vision and keep any of his texts from coming through. Jeremy also didn't know that the Squip replied to these texts with increasingly cryptic messages starting with "Sorry, can't talk right now" and most recently, a simple "Stop."

After Day 1 of the Squip's plan, Michael caught on. He realized pretty quickly that something was up, and he wanted to confront Jeremy about it, but he was worried about upsetting him even more. He wracked his brain trying to think of why Jeremy was avoiding him so pointedly. It hurt, not seeing his best friend all day, but nevertheless, Michael accepted his fate and ate lunch alone.

The same thing happened the next day, and the next, and the next... This went on for almost two weeks. It was the same every day -- Jeremy was content (if a bit confused), the Squip was working hard, and Michael was left in the dust.

The illusion was finally shattered the following week during a conversation with Brooke. Jeremy came up to her and Christine in the hallway and said hello, although he felt a bit uneasy about it. He couldn't remember why -- was he angry at Brooke? It didn't matter, because she was already saying hi, and pulling him into a hug, and then she was talking excitedly.

"Ohmygod, Jeremy, you will not _believe_ what I just heard!" Brooke gripped his wrist intently. "Listen, I know this is probably the last thing you wanna talk about, but remember the Squip?"

Jeremy, a deer in the headlights, managed to nod. _Does she know_?

"Well, they came out with a new one. Five-point-o," Brooke beamed. "And it's not to make you cool or anything, it's actually supposed to be really helpful. Like, for people who have mental, uh, problems and stuff."

"Mental illness?" suggested Jeremy.

"Yeah! Like anxiety or depression. Bipolar disorder. Stuff like that," Christine explained. "The S-Squip..." She shuddered and tried again. "The Squip regulates your hormones to keep your dopamine levels up and stuff like that. It's really cool."

Jeremy nodded, intrigued, and relieved. _They don't know about the Squip_.

"You have nothing to worry about," said the Squip. "There's no possible way for them to find out. Listen to Brooke, now."

Brooke spoke up. "Yeah, my cousin Evan has, like, really bad social anxiety, but his therapist just told him about it and she's gonna get him one and see if it helps."

"Well, the FDA hasn't approved anything yet, but as soon as they do it'll make life easier for a _lot_ of people," said Christine excitedly.

Jeremy was incredulous. "Really?"

Brooke and Christine practically talked over each other to answer him, but he only listened to the Squip.

"Yes, it's true. And as for the FDA there's a very high probability that they approve it before the beginning of next year."

 _That's less than a month_ , thought Jeremy. _That's so cool_.

"It's very exciting, yes." The Squip smiled at him. "Many people will have a life with fewer obstacles, such as Brooke's cousin. Human innovation is quite impressive."

"Also! Also!" cried Christine, "They're working on a five-point-one-point-o for _transgender_ people!" She was positively bursting with joy at this point. "It's going to be able to activate some kind of glands and pretty much fix your hormones without having to get shots or gel or _anything_!"

Brooke gasped. "Ohmygod, guys, Michael is going to be _stoked_."

Jeremy's heart stopped. _Michael_. The word hit him like a brick wall. His feeling of forgetting something dissolved as everything came flooding back to him at once -- Michael's face, Michael's eyes, Michael's _scent_ , just... _Michael_.

"No -- I -- I can fix this -- " the Squip was saying, looking around frantically, but Jeremy barely noticed.

Jeremy was suddenly very aware of his own heartbeat, and of a returning, growing sense of longing. He needed to see Michael -- _desperately_.

"You know, I haven't seen you guys together in a while," Christine pointed out. "Did you have a falling-out or something?"

Jeremy was already walking away. "Yeah, something," he mumbled.

"Jeremy, _stop_ ," the Squip warned. "This isn't what you want. If you see him, you won't be able to _quit_ seeing him. You'll never get over him at this rate. Your romantic feelings will keep returning, and you will never be truly happy."

Jeremy kept going. The Squip had to practically jog to keep up.

"Jeremy, _listen to me_ \-- "

" _No_. I don't _need_ to listen to you anymore. I know what I want and it doesn't involve you," he hissed.

"Jeremy. _Stop_ ," the Squip commanded, and Jeremy stopped in his tracks.

Not wanting to make a scene, he thought, _Let me go, you stupid fucking tic-tac._

"Being angry at me does not change the fact that this is what _you asked for_. I can't let you ruin this plan. It's the path you chose to achieve happiness, and it's my job to keep that plan in effect." The Squip paused to look at him sadly for a moment. "I'm sorry, but it's for your own good."

_I'm changing my goal again. My goal isn't to get over him anymore, it's to stay friends with him._

"I can't allow that, Jeremy. My programming -- "

" _Shut up_!" Jeremy ignored the stares he got in the hallway. He found that his legs had begun working again and continued furiously down the hall to Michael's locker. _This is what I want. Let me have it_.

The Squip was silent.

Jeremy reached Michael's locker, but he wasn't there. "...Michael?" he tried tentatively.

"Jeremy." Michael seemed to materialize from thin air, likely from the optic nerve blocking. He looked just the same as always, but somehow so much _better_ \-- the angels sang. Jeremy had never beheld a more beautiful sight than his best friend after nearly two weeks of not speaking at all.

" _Michael_ ," Jeremy breathed, pulling him into a crushing hug. "You have no idea how great it is to hear your voice."

"Really." His voice was flat, and Jeremy couldn't tell if he was angry or relieved.

He pulled back and looked his Player 1 in the eyes. There was an emotion there he couldn't quite read. "Michael, I missed you."

Something in Michael's face darkened. He shook his head, pulled his arms out of Jeremy's reach. "No."

What? Jeremy felt the dread creeping in. "N-no?"

" _No_ , Jeremy. You don't get to miss me. After _weeks_ of nothing but shutting me out, you try to come back and -- what? Apologize? Explain yourself? _No_. You're not _allowed_. I won't listen, because this hits way too close to home after... after the Squip."

"Wait, please listen, the Sq -- "

"I don't _want_ to listen. It doesn't _matter_ why you've been avoiding me." Michael hurriedly wiped away his tears. "It doesn't. What matters is that you know how much -- how many bad memories it brings back. You know I have anxiety and shit, you _know_ that I'd blame myself for this and you did it anyway." He took a deep breath. "Don't bother talking to me."

Jeremy was utterly speechless. "I -- Michael -- "

"I trusted you. I probably shouldn't have after what you did, but I trusted you. I... I loved you, Jeremy. I meant that when I said it, but now... now I don't know. Obviously I'm not that important to you, so maybe we should just call it quits." Michael threw up his hands. "Just, fucking throw thirteen years out the window, right? It's better than trying to pretend we're something we're not."

"Michael, _please_ \-- "

"Stop." He grabbed his bag and turned to leave. "Just stop."

"Michael..." Jeremy stood there, powerless, and watched him go. Everything felt surreal, dreamlike -- no, nightmarish. Now he was crying too, and Michael was gone, and Jeremy was here, alone, lost again, with only the voices in his head to keep him company.

The world fell away and it was Jeremy, just Jeremy, _alone_.


	12. Level 11

_(A/N: Major trigger warning for self harm, alcohol, blood, and use of the homophobic "f slur".)_

"Jeremy, please don't do this."

Jeremy ignored him, staring stone-faced at the ceiling. He couldn't bring himself to speak anyway.

"I can help you fix everything. Just get up, put the alcohol down, put -- put the knife away, and let's talk. We'll sort through this and repair your relationship with Michael."

Jeremy remained still and silent, staring, unblinking. Barely breathing. Just lying there on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He couldn't even cry. _You've done enough._

"Jeremy, I warned you not to go find him. Step one was not complete -- "

" _Fuck you_!" Jeremy exploded. "Fuck you, and everything you ever did for me. _Fuck. You_."

"Your father is asleep," the Squip hushed. "Keep your voice down."

"It doesn't matter." Apparently he wasn't done crying, after all. "None of it matters. Michael's gone." His voice broke and then he was sobbing again.

"He's not _dead_ , Jeremy. You can win him back with my help -- "

"I don't deserve him back." Jeremy closed his eyes and drew a shuddering breath. "He's right. After all I did, he should never forgive me."

The Squip sat on the edge of the bed and placed a hand on Jeremy's knee in an attempt to comfort him. "Let me help. We can -- "

"I don't want your help, asshole," Jeremy spat.

"Jeremy, please, you're being irrational," the Squip said sternly. "Put down the bottle before I make you."

Jeremy sat up quite suddenly and stared the Squip directly in the glowing blue eyes as he uncapped the bottle of vodka and took a long drink. The shock and anger and vague fear in the Squip's eyes was worth the coughing fit that followed.

 _"Jeremy_!"

"Shh, you'll wake up my dad," Jeremy muttered sarcastically, taking another sip as the sputtering subsided.

The Squip tried to force Jeremy to drop the bottle, but as Jeremy hadn't eaten anything and weighed about ninety pounds, it didn't take long for the alcohol to start affecting him, and it hit the Squip even sooner.

"This is -- un idea mal, Jeremy. Escucharme -- I'm already starting to malfunction." The Squip struggled to speak as his face started glitching. "J-Jeremy -- no me gusta tu -- decisions right now. You're not in the right state of mind."

 _Go away_.

The Squip disappeared. _Adios, tostadora estúpida_. Jeremy took another sip. He'd swiped the bottle of Ultimat from the pantry without even thinking of what his father would do when he found out. Honestly, he didn't care. Let him be grounded -- the only thing he'd be missing out on anyway was Michael.

 _Michael_. He was hurting, badly, and Jeremy blamed nobody but himself. He was the one who shut him out again, ignored him for weeks, then came crawling back like a pathetic parasite. If he'd never started crushing on Michael, neither of them would be in this situation.

Basically, their friendship was fucked and it was all his fault.

Jeremy kept drinking until the room was blurred from the alcohol as well as the tears. _This is bad. Bad bad bad_. He wasn't even sure which part he was talking about -- the situation with Michael, being drunk, stealing his father's alcohol -- but it didn't matter. He was guilty on all three counts.

Jeremy shook his head, hard, which proved to be another bad idea, as his stomach rolled unpleasantly. He set down the bottle in preparation to be sick, but managed not to throw up on himself.

He leaned back on his elbows, trying to shut out the nausea, and his left arm bumped something hard and cool and dangerous. The knife. He contemplated this through his own dread for a moment before picking it up with a shaky hand. 

He hadn't even realized he was still crying until now. Tears splashed onto the wide blade as Jeremy examined it. Sharp, but not serrated. Perfect.

It had been so long since he'd done this. He thought back to nearly three years before, traced the thin white scars on his arm with his finger, and relived every emotion. Waves of guilt and mourning washed over him as he remembered. That was when his mother left. He'd been sure it was his fault -- he was all they ever seemed to fight about, anyway. "Jeremy doesn't need to hear this." "Jeremy needs to learn to make friends." "Jeremy this, Jeremy that."

He'd hurt himself the day she didn't come home from work. Badly -- badly enough to scare him away from it for a while. He'd bled through a few paper towels and was debating on asking somebody to take him to the hospital when it finally stopped, and he told himself that was _it_ , that he'd never put himself through that again.

And he believed it, because he thought nothing could be worse than his mother leaving. He believed it, until now.

This was worse.

Jeremy pressed the cool steel to his skin and cut his wrist three times, just like that. One, two, three. _One for taking the Squip, one for hurting Michael, and one for being completely pathetic_. He watched the blood trickle down his arm onto the blanket. It was therapeutic and vulgar at the same time. He hated that he enjoyed it.

"Hey, Squip. Squip," he slurred. "Look." Frowning in concentration, Jeremy dipped his finger into the blood and wrote the word "fag" down his arm as the Squip materialized. "If I wasn't half-gay, I wasn't... love Michael and not be drunk right now."

The Squip calculated rapidly, and found that Jeremy's blood volume was still adequate and that whatever he'd just done wouldn't kill him. But he definitely needed to get cleaned up and dress those wounds, or else probability of infection skyrocketed. He sighed in relief, then spoke. "Escucharme." The Squip groaned in frustration. He'd forgotten about the language glitch. "Necesitas ayuda. Llámalo Michael en el teléfono ahora."

Jeremy looked down and gasped. "Squip... Squip, I'm bleeding."

"Sí, necesitas ayuda -- "

"That's blood. There's lots... lots of blood." Jeremy blinked hard, but it didn't stop the room from swaying underneath him. "I think I'm gonna pass out."

"No, no, llame a Michael!" the Squip urged, but to no avail. Jeremy was fading fast. He tried to shock Jeremy awake as a last-ditch effort, and still, nothing -- the smell of blood and the memories it dragged to the surface were just too much.

"Jeremy -- necesitas -- " He was disappearing quicker than he could speak. He looked down at his pixelated hands and knew he had to act fast. The Squip frantically tapped into Jeremy's phone and sent a text before he and Jeremy slipped into drunk, disoriented darkness.


	13. Level 12

_(A/N: Trigger warning again for self harm, alcohol, and blood. I promise the story cleans up after this chapter. Stay safe!!!)_

" _Where I go, when I go there... no more whispering anymore_ ," Michael sang softly to himself, strumming gently. " _Only hymns upon your lips, a mystic wisdom, rising --_ "

A loud beeping interrupted the sweet music filling the basement. Michael opened his eyes, set aside the guitar, and reached for his phone. He almost didn't read the message when he saw the contact name, but he knew Jeremy wouldn't text at this hour if it wasn't important.

PLAYER 2: ayúdame te necesito

Michael stared down at the cryptic message. He'd received a lot of cryptic messages from Jeremy lately, but this one was the worst -- he honestly didn't know what to make of it. "Help me I need you". At three in the morning. In Spanish. Jeremy didn't even _speak_ Spanish.

Nevertheless, Michael was a mom friend by nature. He worried about his buddy; even if he was angry with him, even if he was the last person on Earth he wanted to see right now, he still worried. So, at three in the fucking morning, he slipped out the front door and drove to Jeremy's, praying that he didn't wake anyone up, and thinking, _This better be good_.

He pulled into the driveway, yawning, and took out the spare key Jeremy had given him a while ago. Mr. Heere didn't know about it, but Jeremy thought it was a good idea. Michael hadn't had to use it very often, since the door was always open during the day, but it was good to have in case of an emergency like (he assumed) this.

Michael entered the house as quickly and quietly as possible and took the stairs two at a time. Jeremy had always been jealous that Michael was tall enough to do that, he remembered. He shook his head slightly to clear his thoughts. _I'm supposed to be mad at him, not reminiscing about him_.

Michael hesitated on the top step. What if this was just a plot Jeremy had come up with to make him talk? He really didn't want to talk to Jeremy right now, especially after the scene they made this morning. Maybe he should just leave now and avoid all that.

On the other hand, what if Jeremy really did need his help? Michael wouldn't be able to live with himself if anything happened that he could've prevented. He shrugged inwardly. If this _was_ a trick, all he had to do was turn around and leave. Simple. And then Jeremy couldn't blame him for being pissed.

He approached the bedroom door decisively and knocked. _Jeremy better be awake_ , he thought, but there was no answer. _Great._

Michael turned the handle and walked in, completely unprepared for the sight before him. All of his anger melted away into panic as he scanned the room. A half-empty bottle of vodka sat on the floor next to a bloody knife, and on top of the bloody bed lay a very bloody Jeremy.

Michael ran a shaky hand through his hair. _What happened? Who did this?_ His heart raced as he crossed over to the bed and instinctively grabbed Jeremy's wrist to check for a pulse, but he stopped when he saw his arm, saw the three new cuts on top of his old remaining scars, and the word scrawled across his forearm in dried blood.

" _Jeremy_ ," he pleaded, nudging his shoulder gently. "Jeremy, wake up, _please_ wake up."

Jeremy stirred, then groaned and sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. "Ow -- _ow_ \-- I'm up, I'm... My head hurts."

"I know, I'm sorry, are you okay?" Michael shakily checked his other arm, then looked at his face and tried to stay calm as he examined him.

"I think so?" Jeremy yawned. "I think I'm pretty drunk. And my arm hurts. But other than that, yeah?"

Michael nodded and helped Jeremy stand. "We're gonna clean you up, okay? Jeremy?"

"Yeah. Okay." Jeremy seemed to have a revelation. "Michael! You're Michael!"

"Shh, shh, yes, I'm Michael," he confirmed, "and it's three in the morning so you have to be quiet. And your arm is bleeding so we have to wash it."

"Ohh. Okay." Jeremy paused, considering something. "I cut myself again, right?"

Michael hesitated before answering. "I... I think so. That's what it looks like." He led Jeremy into the bathroom.

"I did though. I just... felt... _bad_ ," Jeremy sighed dramatically as Michael sat him down on the floor so there would be minimal risk of him falling over. "About Michael. I made him feel really... bad. He's mad at me, but it _wasn't_ me, the fuckin' toaster made me do it."

Michael struggled not to laugh at whatever drunken observation that was supposed to be. "Well, the toaster isn't going to make you do anything else." He grabbed a dark washcloth from the shelf and wet it with rubbing alcohol.

"I hope he doesn't. He's a dick."

Michael turned back to him and took his arm. "This is probably going to sting."

"Probably not," Jeremy giggled. "I'm pretty drunk."

Michael held back an amused smile as he wiped away the blood. He made sure the cuts were clean and dry before wrapping them in some thin gauze. "There, that'll work." Jeremy smiled up at him, hazy and loving. Michael smiled back.

"Thanks, Mikey," Jeremy whispered. "Why don't I call you that ever? It's so cute." He let Michael take his good hand and lead him back to his room.

Michael stripped the comforter from the bed and helped Jeremy sit again. "Stay here," Michael instructed, taking the blanket down to the laundry room. He stuffed it into the washer, though he didn't dare run it at this time of night. He couldn't imagine if Mr. Heere woke up to this scene.

Michael hurried back up the stairs, and was relieved to see Jeremy was right where he left him.

"If your dad asks, tell him I had my period," said Michael.

Jeremy giggled. "Gross."

Michael couldn't help but laugh whenever Jeremy did. "I'm saving your ass, Heere, don't call me gross."

"Not _you_. You're not gross. Not even." He stared at Michael intently for a beat, then sighed, "You have really pretty eyes."

"Oh." Michael turned red. "Um... thanks, man."

Jeremy suddenly became very urgent. He gripped the front of Michael's jacket in both fists and whispered, "You can't tell _anyone_."

Startled by his outburst, Michael cocked an eyebrow. "That my eyes are pretty?"

"Yeah. And that I'm... was bleeding," Jeremy confirmed. Michael nodded, but Jeremy was insistent. "And you can't tell my dad."

"I won't, I won't." Michael gently removed Jeremy's hands from his jacket, then reached around his friend and held him close, careful not to hurt his head or his arm. Jeremy relaxed into the hug immediately, trusting Michael (as usual) with all of his soul. Michael was still bothered, though.

"Jeremy..." He hesitated, unsure if he should ask. "What happened? I mean, why did you...?" He took Jeremy's hand just to have something to hold onto.

Jeremy looked up at him sadly, turning his head so the two were nearly touching noses. Michael fought the urge to kiss him right then and instead backed up a few inches, dropping his hand as he remembered how drunk Jeremy was.

"Michael..." Jeremy sighed painfully. "I'm gay." He gasped. " _No_ \-- ! No, I'm _not_ gay, I'm _drunk_. And bi... bisexual. Yeah, that's the one, Rich was... told me..." He yawned again, then started crying again, and Michael was utterly speechless.

"Uh..." he tried. "Good for you, man, I'm glad you... figured it out, ya know?"

Jeremy sniffled and looked at him, surprised. "Wait, you're not mad?"

"Why would I be -- "

"I was mad. I'm mad at me, that's why... why I had to... Michael, don't tell my dad!" Jeremy cried. 

"Shh, okay, I won't tell him, but you have to be quiet now. Okay?" Jeremy nodded. Michael helped him lie down and threw a spare blanket over him.

Jeremy dozed off almost immediately while Michael took some final precautions to keep him out of trouble. He closed the bottle of Ultimat, grabbed the knife and the washcloth from earlier, and went down the the kitchen. He wiped the blade clean and set it in the sink, carefully and silently, as if removing fingerprints from a murder weapon. He hid the vodka in the pantry, behind a few more bottles and boxes since he didn't know where it was originally. _Out of sight, out of mind for Mr. Heere_ , he hoped.

Michael threw the cloth in with the soiled blanket, filled a glass with water as an afterthought, and went upstairs one last time to check on Jeremy. He was out cold. Michael set the glass on the nightstand, took a much-needed deep breath, rubbed his eyes, and thanked God that everything was cleaned up and put away. Maybe he'd actually managed to get Jeremy out of this one.

Before he could change his mind, Michael placed a lingering kiss on Jeremy's forehead and left, exhausted but relieved. Jeremy was okay.

Now he could go back to being mad.


	14. Level 13

_Zap._

"Ow!" Jeremy shot straight up in bed, not realizing that it would hurt his head and his stomach so damn much. " _Owww_..."

"Rise and shine," the Squip sang, much too loudly. "You slept through your alarm, but I woke you easily with a quick spinal stimulation. A bit late, but it doesn't matter. Now, I need you to listen to me today and actually do as I say."

"Let me wake up before you start barking orders, I'm in _pain_ here..." Jeremy griped. He held his head together, since it felt as though it would explode otherwise. "I think I need to stay home today."

"You can't. Your father will become too suspicious, I've calculated it. Drink that." The Squip pointed at the glass of water beside him, and Jeremy set aside his pride and obeyed, because his mouth was dry as sand and if he didn't drink it he was pretty sure he'd shrivel up and die.

Jeremy downed the entire glass before coming up for air and, to his surprise, immediately felt almost normal. "Whoa..." His stabbing headache was reduced to a dull ache, his mouth was no longer dry, his stomach was settled -- he was dumbfounded. "Did you do that?"

"I increased the absorption rate by two hundred percent. Nothing complicated," the Squip dismissed with a wave of the hand. "Get up, get dressed, _wear sleeves_. Eat something before you pass out again. And for the love of God, stay away from alcohol for a while."

"Sleeves?" Jeremy looked down at his arm and everything from the night before came crashing down. "God _damn_ it. It's been three years. Three _years_." He impulsively took off the bandage and cringed at what was underneath. Defeated, he tossed the gauze aside and looked down at the floor, shaking his head. "What's _wrong_ with me?"

"Look at me, Jeremy." Jeremy turned his gaze up. The Squip looked him in the eye and said exactly what he needed to hear: " _It's not your fault_." Jeremy softened immediately. "Okay? We're going to get you the help you need, as soon as possible, but right now you've just got to take it a day at a time. Can you do that for me?"

Jeremy gave a weak smile. "I think so."

"Good!" the Squip beamed, clapping him on the shoulder. "Now get dressed, we've got a friendship to save."

They were out the door in ten minutes, walking the usual route to school and planning exactly what Jeremy would say to fix everything. The Squip was, once again, barking orders. Jeremy complied with each one; he knew it was his best chance to win back Michael and make everything up to him.

"Adjust your cardigan," the Squip instructed, marching beside him through the field. "Smooth your shirt. Fluff up your hair a bit. Do not walk through those doors until you are _flawless_ \-- a clean appearance will make you seem much more trustworthy."

 _Slow down_ , Jeremy thought at him, _I'll do it when I get to school_. He saw a patch of blue flowers that had survived autumn and debated taking them. They were Michael's favorite color -- he couldn't pass that up, he decided, and took them with the Squip's assent.

He stopped outside the school to fix himself up, leaning against the wall and taking deep breaths as he prepared himself to apologize.

"No, not apologize," the Squip corrected seriously. "I mean, of course you _are_ going to apologize, but if you think of it like that it won't seem as meaningful. You are preparing yourself to do much more than apologize. You are preparing to put right what you -- what _we_ did wrong. You are preparing to ask for forgiveness."

_What do I even say?_

"I'll tell you when you need to know." The Squip hesitated for a moment, seeming almost embarrassed. "Unfortunately, Michael's reactions are too unpredictable at the moment, but once I can gauge his emotions I'll be able to handle the situation accordingly."

_Wait, you don't know how it's going to go? Are you even sure this'll work?_

"Jeremy?" said Michael, approaching him cautiously from the direction of the parking lot.

"Oh, hi, Michael!" Too cheerful? _This is not the plan not the plan what do I do what do I do Squip HELP --_

"Just be yourself. You're doing fine," the Squip reassured him.

Michael stopped in front of Jeremy, but made no move to give one of his usual bro-hugs, or rest his arm on Jeremy's head to annoy him, or even a fist bump. This was wrong. Unfamiliar. He was still angry.

"Hey, thanks for last night, man," Jeremy tried. "I really owe you one."

"You remember that?" Michael returned, incredulous. "I was actually coming over to see if you were okay." He said it in a way that suggested that was the _only_ thing he came over to do, just check in and nothing more. He brushed hair from his eyes, and Jeremy noticed a new patch high on the left arm of his signature red sweater.

Jeremy and Michael spoke at the same time.

"Who're the flowers for?"

"When did you get that patch?"

The Squip sorted out the situation. "You answer first."

"For... for you." He held them out, then laughed, "No homo. I just know you really like these ones, and... and I have a lot to make up for, so..."

Michael stared at the flowers, calculating, but otherwise unreadable, then looked back up. "Yeah, I guess you do."

He didn't take them.

Instead, he turned to leave. "Anyway, you seem fine, so -- "

Jeremy grabbed his arm. "Michael, wait -- "

"Damn it, Jeremy, why'd you have to be one of those assholes who doesn't get hangovers?" He whipped back around and jerked his arm free. "Just... just leave me alone."

"I can't!" cried Jeremy. A few people were beginning to point and stare. He lowered his voice. "I can't. I have to -- "

"Say sorry? I think we're past that. You should honestly just get over me because I am _done_."

Jeremy looked at him in shock. "You're... done?"

"Yeah, _done_!" Michael shouted. "I'm done crying over you, I'm done wishing we could -- I don't know, work out? We don't! We don't work out because you don't care enough. You're _selfish_ , Jeremy. I'm fucking _sick_ of it."

The Squip tried to help. "Apologize, _now_ , it's your chance -- "

Too many voices. _Shut up, I can't think._

"You wanna know when I got this patch?" Michael pointed to it, a rainbow pride flag. "After I broke up with Brooke. Last week. Which you would know if you bothered to _talk_ to me, but you were too busy with whatever was more important than your _best friend_."

"Is it -- is that a pride flag?"

"No shit." Michael threw his arms up and shouted, _"I'm gay!_ " Michael looked around at the lack of attention (the other students had already gotten bored of their argument), then back at Jeremy. "See? Nobody cares, except you. Which is why you were the _one_ person I wanted to talk to about this, but you wouldn't even answer the fucking phone."

Jeremy quickly realized that the Squip must have intercepted their messages. He covered it up the best he could. "Michael, of _course_ I care. I mean, I'm fine with it, obviously, I just couldn't really talk to you about it last week. I was -- I was going through some stuff."

"Yeah, yeah, but if you'd _told_ me that, I would've listened, because that's what best friends _do_. They don't shut each other out. You shut me out, Jeremy, you didn't tell me what was going on, so I had to figure it out myself." Michael shrugged off his backpack and unzipped it, searching for something.

"What do you mean, figure it out?"

Michael just shook his head. The first bell rang as he pulled out a can of Mountain Dew Red and shoved it into Jeremy's hands. Without another word he grabbed his bag and left.

Jeremy looked down at the soda and immediately burst into tears.


	15. Level 14

_I should just skip lunch_ , thought Jeremy. _I can't face Michael again after that._

"Yes, you can, and you will. Trust me. Favorable outcomes are quite likely this time."

Jeremy glanced down at his bag again, not caring how suspicious that must look during a math test. He couldn't concentrate anyway -- he couldn't seem to keep his mind off the can of soda inside. He briefly wondered how Michael could've possibly found out, but came to the conclusion that since they'd been friends for over a decade, Michael must've pretty much had his behavior pattern memorized by now.

Guilt crept back into his mind. They'd been best friends for almost thirteen years, and Jeremy had tried to throw it all away over a _crush_?

Though, to be fair, it _was_ a crush he'd had and suppressed and tortured himself with for years. Maybe Michael would be quicker to forgive him if he knew that.

His mind shifted to consider what he was going to _do_ about about all this. Drink the soda? Save it? Obviously he wasn't planning on keeping the Squip forever; he had to drink the stuff eventually. But when? Now? Tonight? After he won Michael back?

"Well, Michael _knows_ , so you can't wait for long. If you don't drink it he'll take offense," said the Squip. Jeremy jumped -- he'd forgotten for a moment that the Squip was there. And he was surprised at how emotionless the statement was. The Squip wasn't trying to convince Jeremy to keep him, like he did last time Mountain Dew Red came into the picture. This was uncharted territory. _Don't you care that I'm thinking about shutting you down?_

"I told you, my primary purpose is to achieve the goals _you_ set. Last time, in order to reach those goals, it was essential that you kept me. This time it is essential that you remove me. Seventy-two percent, by the way," he added.

Jeremy wrote the answer for problem number fourteen. _Thanks. But when do I do it?_

"Not now," the Squip laughed. "The screaming would be quite disruptive during a test -- I doubt your teacher would appreciate it." He leaned back in his seat, the one right behind Jeremy, putting his feet on the desk. "You have to talk to Michael at lunch. The two of you will figure it out."

Jeremy nodded and turned back to his probability-and-statistics work. Number fifteen looked easy enough. _Don't give me this one, I've got it._

The Squip smiled. "Let me know if you need help."

Jeremy glanced back, maybe to thank him, but he was gone. _Okay, concentrate._

He most certainly could not concentrate. All he could think of was Michael and Mountain Dew.

The Squip materialized beside him, cross-legged on the floor, smirking. "Yeah, I figured as much. Four point two."

Jeremy jotted this down gratefully. He looked at his bag again, then the clock, then back to his paper. Two minutes until the end of class.

The Squip cleared his throat dramatically and flew through the math problems. "Seventeen and a half. Five hundred twenty-five percent increase. Sixty-nine. Stop laughing. Eight percent decrease."

They rushed to the last question and brought the paper up to the teacher just as the bell rang, along with most of the other students. As he navigated the crowd, Jeremy was still debating whether or not to hide in the bathroom all period or actually confront his problems. It didn't matter, of course; he knew the Squip would probably make him see Michael anyway.

"Bingo," the Squip confirmed. "I can still control your movements, if necessary."

Jeremy rolled his eyes, accepted his fate, and followed the waves of students making their way to lunch. He wasn't hungry -- and with the way his stomach was twisting at the thought of more confrontation, eating wouldn't have been a good idea anyway -- so the Squip directed him straight to Michael.

He was sitting in the far corner of the cafeteria, as opposed to his usual spot with Rich and Jeremy. He was alone. Jeremy felt another twinge of guilt mixed in with all of the nerves as he sat across from his Player 1.

"Hi," said Jeremy with a careful smile.

Michael pulled off his headphones, poker-faced again. "Hi."

_Where do I start?_

The Squip shushed him. "Let Michael start."

He did. "Jeremy, listen... I overreacted. You were being a bad friend, I'm not gonna, like, let that fly, but... I was too."

Jeremy cut him off, despite the Squip's protests. "No, Michael, it wasn't your fault, I -- "

"Let me finish, Jer." Michael made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a sob. "You obviously needed help, and I just... gave up. So, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I had to say that." He paused, looking expectantly at Jeremy.

Jeremy reached across the table and took Michael's hand. Surprisingly, Michael didn't pull away. "I'm sorry too. I never -- _never_ should've ignored you like that, not last October, and not now." He looked Michael right in the eye. "I'm so sorry. You're my favorite person, Michael. You're my Player 1, my _best friend_. I -- I shouldn't have -- oh, _god_ , I fucked up _bad_." He buried his face in his free hand. "I'm so, so sorry. Is there _anything_ I can do to make it up to you?"

Michael took a deep breath and answered, "Come over tonight."

Jeremy was taken aback. "Uh... really? That's all?"

"Come over _alone_. Without... the, uh, _toaster_."

"Ugh, you remember that?" laughed Jeremy, hiding his face again. "Because I _barely_ do and I'm still embarrassed."

"Yeah, it didn't take long to figure out what you meant," Michael smiled. "I just... I need you to explain to me what the hell happened. In your own words, not his. But you can't tell me _now_ , I'm guessing there's not enough time. And you can't drink that now, anyway, you'll freak people out. So, drink it at home, then come over," he concluded.

Before Jeremy could answer, he was interrupted by an excited " _Jeremy_!" as Christine slid into the booth beside him. Rich dropped down right next to Michael.

"Jeremy, Michael, are you busy?" Christine said urgently. "I have big news!"

Jeremy looked at Michael, who nodded his assent. "No, we're not busy. What's up?"

" _So_! This might be kinda weird to talk about with you of all people, but... Remember when I was with Jake?" She didn't wait for an answer -- she seemed too excited. " _Well_ , after me and you broke up, I was like, 'I think I still have feelings for him.'"

Rich slammed his hand on the table. "Bitch, me too, the fuck?" he interrupted.

Christine smacked him on the arm playfully. "You already made that joke and it wasn't funny the first time either. Let me finish!" She turned back to Michael and Jeremy. "So then I was like, 'I _like_ him, but I don't want to _date_ him'. And I realized, I don't want to be his _girlfriend_. I want to be his _best_ friend. I think he's so cool and confident and accepting of people and I just want to hug the _crap_ out of that boy."

Jeremy's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Christine beamed. "I'm glad you asked! So, I thought to myself, _these feelings aren't romantic, they're platonic_! And I thought back and realized -- I've literally never had anything _more_ than platonic feelings for _anyone_. Sorry, Jeremy," she added. "Anyway, I did some research, and _apparently_ , I'm not crazy. I am -- drumroll please -- "

Rich dutifully pounded on the table as if they'd rehearsed this together.

Christine threw up her arms and shouted to the ceiling. "I am an aromantic asexual! An aro-ace!" 

The boys applauded her, laughing at her dramatic reveal, and various congratulations on the whole figuring-out-your-identity thing were exchanged. But she wasn't done yet.

"Guys." Christine got very serious. "This was all _yesterday_. So I decided to talk to Jake. This. Morning." She inhaled sharply, seemingly in preparation to fangirl. "He likes me too! _Platonically_! And we're gonna be platonic _partners_!"

More applause and congratulations, until --

"But wait, there's _more_ ," Rich interjected. "Coincidentally, I also decided to talk to Jake this morning and me and Christine bumped into each other on the way to him. We all three got to talking and I told him that _I_ liked him, ya know, sexually -- no, I didn't really say that, I just wanted to say the word sexually -- stop laughing, Mell, I know it sounds funny with my lisp -- anyway, I told him I like him too and now I have a date with him Saturday!" He gave an overly dramatic wink.

"Which I'm totally cool with!" cried Christine. "We're gonna be... let me see if I can get this right... a queer-platonic-slash-gay-slash-romantic-polyamorous power trio!" She threw her fist into the air like a superhero.

Jeremy blinked. "Wow. Uh... I'm glad you... _three_ are happy."

"I mean, that's not our _official_ name. I just came up with it now. Either way, I know it's a lot to take in," Christine said apologetically. "If you have any questions, I'm totally cool with answering them."

Michael seemed to know exactly what was going on somehow. The Squip showed up briefly to explain. "Online LGBT resources are growing rapidly and full of information. Michael is a part of this, I assume, and knows the terms. I can define any of them for you if you wish, or try and network you into the community."

"I think I understand, but maybe later," Jeremy answered both Christine and the Squip. "Uh, Michael?" he prompted. "Any news?"

Michael bounced in his seat. "Oh yeah! I'm trans!" He waited for the half-hearted responses to start before bursting into laughter. "I'm kidding, I'm _kidding_ , you knew that. But seriously -- I'm, uh, I'm gay." He showed off his new patch a little sheepishly. "I don't know if you guys noticed it, but... I never really officially came out 'til now. No time like the present, right?"

Michael's announcement was met with the same enthusiasm as Christine's, but he couldn't stand being alone in the celebration. "Jeremy? Anything new with you?"

It was casual enough that Jeremy could deny it without suspicion, but pointed enough that he got the hint. His palms began to sweat and he realized he was still holding hands with Michael not-too-subtly. He pulled away and wiped his hands on his jeans. _Oh, why the hell not?_

"Well, Rich knows, and I think you know, Michael, but..." Jeremy shrugged, grinning. "I'm bisexual."

"Ayy, bi bitches club!" Rich high-fived him with fervor.

The four friends talked and laughed and made terrible gay puns all period long. Jeremy couldn't seem to stop grinning; it was the best half hour he'd had in a long, long time. He felt as though his problems melted away and were replaced with laughter. He felt like he could tell these people _anything_ right now, anything, and nobody would be judgmental or cruel. He felt accepted, safe, included, wanted, _needed_ , and so much more.

In short, he felt loved, and he wouldn't want it any other way.


	16. Level 15

Jeremy rang the doorbell. Everything felt too familiar, and yet so foreign, like walking around town at midnight. It was surreal.

Since that morning, all he could think about was the Mountain Dew Red he had tucked away in his backpack. He'd gone home, taken it out, and stared at it for nearly half an hour, almost drinking it at least a dozen times. But he just couldn't bring himself to do it yet.

He was about to ring again, when he heard footsteps approach.

"Jeremy?" Michael opened the door, noticeably confused and a little out of breath from running upstairs. "You know you don't have to do that, you've been barging in like you own the place for years. Come in."

Jeremy followed him to the basement, shrugging off his winter coat. He told himself he shouldn't be so anxious -- it was just Michael. It was just the basement; this was normal, he did this all the time. But he couldn't ignore the dread pooling in his stomach. He remembered the Squip.

_I have to do this alone, okay?_

"I'll stay out of your way," the Squip replied, and vanished.

Michael turned, walking backwards for a moment, and flashed him a grin. "So, how does _Apocalypse of the Damned II_ sound?"

Jeremy relaxed a bit, relieved. "Sounds perfect." Only Michael could put him at ease so effortlessly.

They made it past the first few levels this time without interruption, and with almost as much enthusiasm as old times. They both seemed to be holding back a bit though, walking on eggshells around each other.

Half an hour later, the Squip reappeared.

_Dude, what the hell?_

"Jeremy, listen to me," he urged. "Eventually during this conversation, Michael is going to ask you if I am here, or mention it in some way. It is imperative to your relationship that you do not tell the truth."

_You want me to lie to him? Again?_

Michael suddenly cleared his threat and paused the game, speaking at the screen and the floor rather than Jeremy. "Jer... we're pretending this isn't weird. Neither of us have closure on the whole thing, so... can we talk about it?" Michael finally looked up at Jeremy. His eyes were pleading. All he wanted was an explanation, and Jeremy couldn't deny him that.

Jeremy's face went red as he nodded, the way it did when he was nervous. "Do you wanna go first?"

"Oh. Uh... what do you want to know?" Michael tossed his game controller aside and stretched deeply with a tiny groan, his stomach peeking out from under his hoodie. Jeremy's face flushed a little bit darker.

He ignored it. "Uh... tell me about what happened with Brooke. I want to catch up."

"Well, there's not much to catch up on," he admitted. He popped his fingers one by one. "Pretty much what happened was, we went on two dates, and on the second one I kissed her. Not to be cliche or anything, but... it felt _wrong_. I can't really explain how. I've thought I was bi since forever ago, but kissing a girl just... wasn't right. So now I'm identifying as gay. I told Brooke, and she's a little sad that we broke up but she's doing okay. And, uh, that's that," Michael concluded. He looked at Jeremy with narrowed eyes, thoughtful, then spoke very deliberately. "Boys are really, really cute."

That was Jeremy's breaking point. He turned away, coughing, attempting to hide his blush. "Yes, they are," he laughed nervously. _Stop looking at me like that, Mell, I'm trying to get over you._

"Jeremy."

"Yes? What?" he replied too quickly.

"Ah..." Michael rubbed the back of his neck a little nervously. "How -- how did the Squip come back?"

Jeremy was taken aback. Michael _hadn't_ really figured out what had happened. And now Jeremy had to tell him that he had _taken_ the Squip, and then Michael would ask why -- and he couldn't lie any more.

"Yes, you can," the Squip corrected. "I assure you that's the only way this will work out."

 _Go away_. He did.

"I mean... 'cause Rich never said anything about _his_ coming back, and he had it before you, right? After the play he never mentioned it. Wait, yours is gone, right?"

"Yeah." Flat-out-fucking-lie.

"Alright, good." Michael leaned forward, eager for answers. "So, Jeremy -- "

"Michael..." he cut him off. He breathed in, slowly and painfully. "The Squip didn't exactly come back, I... um... I -- "

"What?" Michael stammered. His mood changed in an instant. "You're -- _not_ telling me you fucking -- bought _another_ one, not after the first time, Jeremy."

Jeremy defended himself weakly. "I didn't _buy_ it." He told Michael how he'd found the pill in his pocket after the play and how he suspected it was part of the Squips' plan all along. "I didn't buy it."

"But you didn't throw it out," Michael countered, his voice rising. He stood and glared down at Jeremy. "You _took_ it. Dude, that was a stupid thing to do and you _knew_ it. Why would you take the fucking thing? To be cool again? To help get rid of me again?"

Jeremy stood. "No, Michael, I _never_ wanted to get rid of you!" He was frantically trying to come up with an excuse, to no avail.

"Then _why_?"

Jeremy snapped. "Because, nobody else could _help_ me!" he shouted, right in Michael's face.

Michael fell silent. The fists at his sides relaxed and he seemed to wilt. "I'm... I'm sorry..."

 _When in doubt, tell the truth_ , Jeremy thought. _Deep breath_. "I took it after Christine and I broke up. It's not easy to get over someone, you know." Michael didn't need to know he wasn't talking about Christine there.

"I know." Michael shook his head. "I just don't understand. I thought you two were on good terms, especially seeing you today at lunch."

"Still." He couldn't elaborate because he didn't know what else to say.

Michael pondered this for a moment. His voice softened. "There has to be something else..." He moved closer to Jeremy, studying his face carefully. "Or someone else..."

Jeremy met his gaze, their noses nearly touching just like the drunken night that seemed to be a million years ago, tears forming in his eyes as he gave Michael a look of complete helplessness. "I'm sorry."

He flinched when Michael reached up and brushed away the single tear that had spilled. He didn't move his hand away from Jeremy's cheek. "Jeremy..." he murmured. "It's okay." Michael leaned in, tentatively, torturously slow.

And then they were kissing.

Jeremy's mind went completely blank and he was ruled by only his senses, without a trace of rational thought. All he could feel, all he could hear, all he could smell was Michael, Michael, _Michael_.

As suddenly as it began, it was over, and Michael was pulling back, cursing.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." He hugged his arms and turned away. " _Fuck_... you didn't... you're not..." He whipped back around. "Jeremy, I'm sorry, that was _not_ okay -- "

"That... was _more_ than okay." Jeremy was breathless. "It's _you_ , Michael. The someone else, it's you."

Without a word, Michael grabbed him roughly around the waist and kissed him again. Jeremy moaned softly as his shaky hands reached up to cup Michael's face, and Michael laughed a little at that because _of course_ Jeremy would fucking moan right now, it's _Jeremy_ , and he realized -- he was kissing _Jeremy_ , after wanting to for so long, and he was pulling him even closer, and Jeremy couldn't believe that this was _Michael_ , and they were kissing, and it was _amazing_.

This second kiss was so much better, Jeremy decided. There was no regret, or hesitation, or fear, it was just _them_ , together, two awkward teenage boys who happened to be best friends, who happened to be _kissing_. It was perfect, and imperfect, which made it even more perfect.

It was surreal.


	17. Level 16

Jeremy couldn't wipe the dopey smile off his face as he swept through the front door of his house. He called a quick hello to his father in the living room, kicked off his boots, and scurried upstairs.

He'd just left Michael's in a hurry; Mr. Mell had gotten home, drunk and loud, and Michael had ushered Jeremy out the door.

"I'll be fine," he assured Jeremy. "You know it happens all the time."

Of course he was worried, but even Michael's dad couldn't spoil Jeremy's mood. He was still in awe of what had just happened, and not entirely sure it wasn't a dream.

Jeremy practically danced into his bedroom. He shrugged off his coat, imagining little birds carrying it away, humming to himself that one song from _Sleeping Beauty_. He couldn't recall the name of it.

"Once Upon A Dream," the Squip offered.

"Yeah, that's the one!" He did a little twirl and swooned back onto his bed like he imagined a Disney princess would. "Squip... I think I'm in love."

"I told you not to address me directly like that. We agreed that it's weird." He sat next to Jeremy on the bed. "But yes, judging by your current levels of oxytocin, I'd say you're _very_ fond of Michael."

"Very very," Jeremy sang. "He's my Prince Charming, Squip."

The Squip let that one slide. He was positively beaming. "It's a good thing this all went according to plan."

 _Wait_. Jeremy's head tilted. "What? No it didn't, we had to change course twice."

"Well, actually..." He stood and faced Jeremy, arms clasped behind his back, standing easy. "The failure of the first plan, and the second, was part of a grander plan of my own design."

"Wait -- " Jeremy sat up abruptly. "Are you serious? All of this was planned?"

"Correct. I came up with a borderline cruel course of action at first, one that you would never be able to follow -- ignoring Michael and the like. I expected you to break very quickly with that." He crossed the room, half pacing and half marching. "Then, I prompted you to 'realize' that you truly wanted to forget Michael. You never really wanted this, but I made you believe you did with simple psychology."

"I can't believe _this_ \-- "

"I'm not finished." The Squip stopped pacing and relaxed a bit as he found patience. "I knew you would optic nerve block him again, and I knew when Brooke would mention his name. The attempts I made to stop you from seeking out Michael once the illusion was broken were false attempts. I knew that Michael would be angry -- or, rather, I knew he would feign anger in the interest of hiding his true emotions."

"He was never really mad?" Jeremy questioned, his voice small.

The Squip chuckled. "No, he wasn't. He was feeling the same way you were -- unrequited love. It was by my design that you binge-drank and self-harmed that night, too, Jeremy."

"Alcohol messes you up, though. That was all me," he pointed out.

"You honestly think I couldn't have stopped you?" The Squip laughed again, less calm and more manic. "I could have forced you to pick up the bottle and smash it before a drop passed your lips. I could have forced you to throw the knife out the window. I _chose_ not to, because sacrifices had to be made in favor of the grand scheme. If you hadn't been injured, Michael never would have been concerned and come up to you at school in the morning, and you never would have talked at lunch or at his house, and you never would have kissed."

Jeremy's heart was pounding in his ears now. Fear filled him at the idea of the Squip having total control of his actions.

"I _could_ take over, but I _won't_." he assured Jeremy. He sat down beside him again. "We've discussed this. Anyway, to sum up, I've had everything under control the whole time. And it worked out, didn't it?"

Jeremy ran a hand through his hair, awestruck. "That's..." Horrifying? Disgusting? Incredibly manipulative? "... _amazing_. Seriously, I'm... _wow_."

"I knew you'd come around," the Squip smiled, patting Jeremy on the knee. "That being said..." He trailed off.

"What?"

"Well... with things going so well, and with the knowledge that your fate is in safe hands, wouldn't it make sense to keep it that way?" shrugged the Squip. "I don't want to pressure you in any direction, but from a completely objective standpoint, it would be unwise to throw out such a powerful asset."

"Oh, _no_ ," Jeremy whisper-shouted. "No, no, no! You're not dragging me into this again. I can't handle it any more." He sprung off the bed and across the room to his backpack, then took out the can of Mountain Dew Red.

"Jeremy, you kissed Michael today."

He halted, already beginning to blush. "Uh... yeah, I did."

"And you would like to do that again," the Squip spelled out, as if explaining long division to a child.

Jeremy was impatient. "Where are you going with this?"

"You want the relationship to last as long as possible, I assume." The Squip smirked arrogantly. "I am your best chance at that."

Jeremy scoffed. "No, _I'm_ my best chance." He went to open the can, his fingers reaching for the metal tab, but stopped. His hand wouldn't listen to him. At first he thought the Squip was preventing him from moving forward; however, it dawned on him that it was only his own hesitation. The Squip _did_ have a point.

"Everything is going perfectly. Why jeopardize that?" he coaxed.

Jeremy looked at him, then the can, then him, can, Squip, can, Squip, no Squip --

His frustration peaked and he slammed the drink down on his desk in defeat. "Fuck you."

The Squip changed the subject, hiding a smile. "Text Michael, and see if he's doing alright."

Jeremy, scowling, did just that, and sent a simple "Everything okay?" to which Michael responded immediately.

PLAYER 1: i'm good man, he's passed out so i'm just playing zelda in the basement

PLAYER 2: Ok good just making sure

Jeremy put the phone back in his pocket but it went off again in the same moment.

PLAYER 1: call me

He did. Michael picked up quickly with a "hey."

"Hey, Michael." Jeremy was more aware than usual of the rise and fall of his own voice, and right now it was too squeaky by far. He brought it down an octave. "What's up?"

"Well, I uh... I know it would be hella awkward to talk about what just happened, so let's... let's not, yet."

There was a long pause as Jeremy processed this. "You mean pretend it _didn't_ happen?"

"No! No," said Michael hastily. "I'm glad it happened. I... I want it to happen again." The way he said that made Jeremy shiver. "I just mean we don't have to be pressured into anything we don't want, you know?"

Jeremy didn't follow. "Right."

"All he means is that you shouldn't rush the relationship," the Squip translated. _Thanks_.

Another long pause. Michael was fighting himself over whether to ask the question or not.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm -- I'm great, Jer," said Michael lightly. He summoned his courage. "But, uh... would you maybe wanna go on a date soon?" The words tumbled from his mouth as if he couldn't stop them.

The Squip prompted him, "Accept." _You don't have to tell me twice_.

"Yes!" he squealed. _Be cool, idiot_. He composed himself. "Uh, yeah, definitely."

"Cool! Uh, how about Sunday?" Michael suggested. "We could go and make it, like, a _real_ date."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I was thinking a nice restaurant, but then I thought, _we're both broke_ , so, I figured we could go for a walk in the park together. We could get a hot cocoa, hold hands, build a snowman, you know. All that romantic first date crap."

Jeremy smiled. "I'd like that."

They figured out the logistics quickly enough: when, where, what to tell their parents. On Sunday, Michael was going to pick Jeremy up at one and drive to the park (their favorite one since they were kids), stopping at Starbucks on the way. It was deliciously cliche.

The boys said their goodbyes and hung up, both wishing they could talk to the other forever. Jeremy hugged his phone to his chest and grinned ear to ear.

The Squip stood there with an I-told-you-so look on his face. "You're welcome."


	18. Level 17

_No... No... No... Nope..._

"For God's sake, Jeremy, just pick a shirt!" the Squip snapped. "You're going to be wearing a coat over it anyway!" Jeremy had been sifting through his closet for the past hour, rejecting every outfit he came across for one reason or another. He dismissed the Squip's opinions on the matter.

"Yeah, but what if I get too warm and take _off_ the coat? I have to look cute." Nothing was good enough, because he knew Michael would look perfect no matter _what_ he wore.

"First of all, you wouldn't be too warm even if Michael set you on fire. You shake like a Chihuahua any time the temperature dips below eighty," the Squip huffed. " _I_ know because _I_ have to deal with it. Second of all, hasn't it occurred to you that Michael thinks the same thing about you? That you'll look perfect no matter what you wear?"

Jeremy waved a hand vaguely. "Still."

"Wear the blue one, then," the Squip sighed. "It'll bring out your eyes."

"Like, _half_ of them are blue!" he whined.

"I meant the sweater with the cloud pattern," said the Squip. "Michael will positively melt when he sees you wearing it, after the big reveal."

Jeremy gasped. "I forgot I had that." He snatched it from the back of the closet and held it up in front of him, wagging his eyebrows. " _Soooo_?"

"Yes, that's the one." The Squip was clearly annoyed with being a fashion adviser, but Jeremy knew he made the right call.

He showered, dressed, combed his hair, put on a little cologne, and waited impatiently for Michael to pick him up, humming to himself the whole time. Jeremy wanted to look his absolute best for their first date, even more than he had with Christine.

He was clean and pretty and ready to go, but where was Michael? _Shouldn't he be here? What time is it?_

The Squip groaned at him. "Jeremy, relax. It's nine-thirty."

"Oh, shit," muttered Jeremy. The love-struck boy was so eager to go, he was ready three and a half hours too soon.

Well, better early than late, he supposed.

Jeremy watched a little TV with his dad, then spent the remaining time catching up on homework like a responsible student would, copying answers from the Squip like a responsible student wouldn't. Finally, one o'clock crept into view.

Michael was ten minutes early picking him up, of course, since he was equally as excited as Jeremy. He rang the bell like a gentleman.

Jeremy cried "I'll get it!"and ran to the foyer, nearly bowling over his father. He put on his winter coat before answering the door at the Squip's instruction. 

There stood Michael, smiling suavely. He had on his coat, too, and somehow made the puffy thing look good. The black coat contrasted sharply with the fresh snow that had fallen the night before, and with the handful of wildflowers Michael was holding out -- red Jersey lilies.

" _Michael_ ," breathed Jeremy, "they're beautiful!"

"Yeah, well, no homo but I knew they were your favorite color, so..." He laughed with a touch of dry humor at the parallel he'd created from when Jeremy tried to give _him_ flowers.

Jeremy giggled. "You can't say no homo anymore, you're gay." Michael just shrugged sheepishly. 

After setting up the flowers in a vase in the kitchen, Michael led Jeremy out to the driveway. The heating was broken in Michael's old car, so they had to keep their coats on the whole time.

"I told you there'd be a big reveal," the Squip chimed in from the backseat, then added, "I'll be elsewhere; if you need me, just call. I have a feeling you won't want me sticking around for long."

Jeremy glanced over at Michael, who was singing quietly along to some eighties pop song as he drove. He wouldn't notice the imaginary conversation. _No shit. I'm still debating chugging that Mountain Dew the second I get home._

"You have every right to be skeptical, but trust me when I say that you will not regret this decision." And then he was gone.

The drive to the park was quiet besides the soft music; they were both pretty nervous. Jeremy tried to relax as they went along, driving through Starbucks for hot cocoa and arriving at the park soon after. Michael parked and the boys got out of the car. Their boots crunched through the snow as they walked side by side up to the gate and entered the park.

Jeremy stopped for a moment. "Wow," he muttered, "It's... a lot different from when we were kids."

Michael agreed. The playground had been completely replaced by a newer one, and the mulch under it was swapped for hard rubber. The dirt path they'd walked along and ridden bikes on was now a sidewalk. New trees had been planted, which was nice, but they were in an almost grid-like pattern and looked too artificial.

Nevertheless, the boys persisted. They joined hands and started walking the path, sipping their cocoa and making minimal small talk.

"I love the snow," Jeremy commented.

"Me too."

"It's so pretty."

"Yeah."

Talking was... _difficult_. There's not much to describe about the rest of the date, as they were nearly silent for most of it, walking together and struggling to keep a conversation going as their hands began to sweat from the hand-holding. It turned into a game of chicken; who would get irritated and let go first?

This went on for nearly an hour before Jeremy finally broke, covering up the action by shifting his hot cocoa into one hand and putting the other in his pocket. Problem solved. He smiled over at Michael. "This is fun."

Michael smiled back. "It is."

Neither of them had ever been so uncomfortable.

 _I can do this_ , thought Jeremy. _I can get through one date with him. I mean, it's Michael, how bad could it be?_

"Oh, look at that flower. It's really pretty," Jeremy tried, sounding a little too enthusiastic.

"Wow, it is pretty," grinned Michael, "but nothing compared to you, sweetie."

"Aw, stop it, Michael." Jeremy blushed at the sentiment but cringed at the "sweetie". What was _wrong_ with them? Why couldn't they just have a normal date that wasn't painfully awkward?

Jeremy had no idea, but Michael was thinking exactly the same thing. All of the romance seemed too forced to them -- scripted, even. It was as if somebody was writing fanfiction and not bothering to keep them in character. Both of the boys wished they were somewhere else, _anywhere_ else, and neither of them would admit it. It was another game of chicken.

Michael lost. He cleared his throat, interrupting Jeremy's thoughts. "So, uh, I'm getting really cold," he lied. "Do you wanna go back to my house?"

Jeremy had never said yes so quickly in his life.


	19. Level 18

_(A/N: smut warning! ...no wait calm down please stop sQUEALING -- )_

Michael and Jeremy couldn't relax on the car ride home, and all the way down into the basement. Neither were aware of how the other felt about the date, so they hid their feelings behind butterfly kisses and fake smiles, talking how couples were supposed to.

They entered the basement, and Michael took off his coat before helping Jeremy with his. He pulled the coat from the boy's shoulders as Jeremy gazed up at him lovingly (though it was half-artificial) and his eyes widened at the sweater Jeremy was wearing.

"Jeremy, that sweater is _rad_ ," Michael smiled. "You should wear it more often."

"Oh, thanks," said Jeremy politely. "I forgot I had it, honestly." He couldn't ignore the fact that Michael was pretty obviously eyeing him up. He changed the subject. "I had lots of fun today. It was _great_."

Michael snapped out of it and nodded enthusiastically. " _So_ great!"

There was a long pause. Michael took a moment to pull off his red hoodie and leave a tee shirt.

Jeremy decided he couldn't hold it in any longer. "I fucking _hated_ that," he blurted, sinking into a bean bag chair. He immediately regretted it. "Wait, no, I'm sorry -- I'm sorry. That came out way harsher than I meant it to, but... Michael, that _sucked_."

Michael stared at Jeremy for a long moment, as Jeremy's anxiety grew with every second. _I ruined everything oh my god I can't believe_ \--

Michael burst into relieved laughter. "Thank God," he managed to get out, dropping down next to Jeremy. "You're right, it -- it was _awful_ , man."

After getting over his initial shock, Jeremy cracked up too. "You -- _haha_ \-- you called me _sweetie_ ," he stressed.

"You kept talking about how pretty stuff was!" Michael was nearly doubling over at this point.

The two just sat there laughing too hard for several minutes, stopping for a moment a few times before starting up again.

Eventually, they were reduced to the occasional giggle and were able to breathe again.

Michael coughed and broke the silence, then spoke. His voice was serious. "Jeremy... what if we don't _work_?"

Jeremy sat up and looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, all the romantic crap obviously didn't feel right. It felt like... it wasn't us. And we can't be 'us' if it's not us, you know?" Michael grasped for the words. "It's like that song... ' _the beauty that I'm faking_ ', and... ' _and well, I find it hard to stay, with the words you say_.'"

Jeremy nodded slowly. The entire date had felt as artificial as the new trees in the park. "Michael..." He looked over at the boy sitting beside him, both still red-faced from laughter although they were both near tears. "I like you a lot. A _lot_. But... maybe we're not cut out for this, ya know?"

"Maybe we're better _best_ friends than -- than _boyfriends_ ," Michael filled in. He scooted closer to Jeremy and took his hand. "You okay, Jer?"

He squeezed Michael's hand. "Yeah, I just... I wanted to be with you for so long, and now it's not working, which sucks. But at the same time we can still be best friends if we're not _together_ , right? And if that's what works best, then it's what we should both want... right?"

Michael didn't respond. Jeremy realized he'd completely zoned out looking at Jeremy, and poked him on the nose to get his attention. " _Hey_."

"Wh -- ? Oh, I... sorry," Michael stuttered. "I was just, uh -- I spaced out."

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing, uh, nothing important. What was the question? Before?" he asked the floor, face turning redder by the second.

"You were staring at me," Jeremy teased.

Michael heard the amusement in his voice and scowled, pulling his hand out of Jeremy's. "Look, it's not my fault you're so cute," he muttered, barely audible.

Jeremy scoffed. "What? No, _you're_ the cute one," he laughed.

"Nah. I'm the hot one," Michael countered. " _You're_ the cute one." He finally met Jeremy's gaze with a little smile.

Jeremy smiled back. "Can't argue with that."

They stared into each other's eyes, searching for any trace of doubt or hesitation, but finding none. This moment was genuine; there was nothing artificial about the way Michael reached out and pulled Jeremy closer. There was nothing forced about the way Jeremy leaned in. And there was nothing scripted about the way they kissed.

It would be impossible to script this kiss -- it was too full of emotion, full of everything they'd wanted to say to the other for years but never had the courage to. They kissed desperately; reckless, but careful.

Jeremy decided it was too careful and broke away for a moment. He shifted to be on Michael's lap and draped his arms over his shoulders. Michael's breath caught in his throat as Jeremy's heavy-lidded eyes swept over him, and he pulled him down for another kiss, fingers tangling in his hair.

Jeremy hummed into his lips as Michael's hands wandered down his back to his waist and played with the hem of his sweater. His warm hands dipped under the fabric to trail along Jeremy's cold skin, and Jeremy shivered with a muffled sigh.

Michael broke away. "Is that -- is this okay?" he said.

"Yeah, that's _good_ ," said Jeremy. He traced patterns on the back of Michael's neck and gazed at the bit of his collarbone that was peeking out from his tee shirt. He tried his best to sound sexy, but it came out awkward and rushed. "Can I, uh, kiss your neck?"

Michael nodded and Jeremy did, slowly pressing his lips to Michael's skin as Michael bit back a moan. He continued placing light open-mouthed kisses along his neck and jaw and collarbone until Michael couldn't contain himself anymore.

" _Fuck_ , Jeremiah," he sighed.

The way Michael said his name went right through Jeremy like a flame, and he had to pause for a moment to catch his shaky breath.

Michael took the opportunity to flip them around so he was on top of Jeremy on the floor, straddling his hips, then gave Jeremy's neck the same treatment as his own, leaving a few hickeys right at the curve of his shoulder. Everything was too hot, so Michael pulled off his shirt and helped Jeremy with his sweater, then Jeremy sat up on his elbows and leaned up so they were kissing again.

Michael wasn't sure what he meant to do, but he ended up rolling his hips in just the right way against Jeremy's and they both groaned in unison.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't -- "

"Michael, no, don't -- don't be sorry, not for _that_ , I -- " Jeremy stammered, then his face flushed even deeper. "Do it again?"

Michael nodded eagerly. "Okay." He rocked his hips again, this time holding back his noise, but Jeremy didn't bother. He grabbed onto Michael's hips, rocking his own hips up to meet them. Michael kept going, grinding against Jeremy slowly at first, then faster as he found a rhythm, encouraged by Jeremy's increasingly desperate moans.

He slowed way down for a moment, as he could tell Jeremy was already getting close. "Do you -- do you want me to stop -- before you -- ?"

Jeremy whined at the suddenly torturous pace. "No, please don't stop, M-Michael, _please_..."

Michael suddenly ground down against him, _hard_. "Like that?"

"Mmhm," Jeremy managed to respond.

He did that again and again, Jeremy crying his name louder and louder, Michael biting his lip harder and harder until they finished together, cursing, Michael's fingers curling against Jeremy's chest as Jeremy's back arched up off the carpet.

They collapsed into each other's arms and let their high fade for a moment before Michael slid sideways off of Jeremy and lay next to him. They stayed there, panting, for a while, each listening as the other's breathing slowed.

The two became aware that they would definitely need to change soon. Jeremy spoke first, voice hoarse. "Can I, uh, borrow some clothes?"

"Yeah," Michael laughed, "no problem." He stood and started toward the basement door, but stopped. "You know, I think we'll work as boyfriends."

"Yeah, I think we will," smiled Jeremy.

"We just... we can't force all the romance," Michael sighed. "We have to do this our own way, you know? Like, we don't have to go on fancy dates, we can do whatever makes us happy. And that's kind of the point, right?"

"Yeah," Jeremy quickly agreed, "but can we talk about this after I'm -- when I -- "

"At a time when you haven't just creamed your jeans?"

" _Michael_ \-- !"

But he was already out the door, laughing all the way up the stairs.


	20. Level 19

_(A/N: Smut warning again!)_

Michael returned to the basement in a fresh outfit, carrying an armful of clean clothes for Jeremy to choose from. "I didn't know what you'd want to wear, so..." He dumped the pile onto the floor next to Jeremy, who sat cross-legged and held his shirt down firmly over his crotch as he blushed furiously.

"Uh, thanks," he stammered, reaching toward the clothes with one hand.

Michael stood awkwardly for a moment, wondering why Jeremy was just sitting there, until he realized he'd probably want some privacy. "Oh!" he cried, backtracking out of the room. "Right, right, sorry."

The door clicked shut behind him, and Jeremy sighed in relief. He picked through the clothes, grabbing a faded Jimmy Hendrix tee and a pair of checkered boxers that were definitely a size too big. He hurried into the bathroom, cleaned up, and changed as he thought about what the fuck just happened.

Jeremy didn't have much experience with other boys -- with _any_ gender, truth be told, but even less so with boys. Until now, the furthest he'd ever gotten with anybody was a kiss.

The Squip materialized, clapping him on the shoulder. "Jeremy, you _player_ ," he grinned.

Jeremy jumped, startled. "What? No, I didn't -- "

"It's pretty obvious -- if not by simply accessing your neural memory, then by your change of clothes and the shade of red your face is right now -- _exactly_ what you did," the Squip grinned. He shook his head and sobered. "However proud I am of you for reaching one of your long-term goals so quickly, I strongly advise that you do not continue this behavior, at least not tonight. Go play video games or something, be a kid for a while."

"Hey, Jeremy, get out here! I gotta show you something!" Michael called from outside the door.

"Depending on what he wants to show me... no promises," Jeremy whispered. He left the bathroom as the Squip rolled his eyes at the remark and disappeared.

Michael was sitting on the edge of his bed, holding a large envelope when Jeremy entered the room.

"Jeremy, look," Michael urged. "I ordered it last month and I got it in the mail like a week ago but I completely forgot about it. Look, look!" Michael ripped the top off the envelope and dumped its contents onto the bed as Jeremy sat down next to him.

Jeremy picked up the tightly folded square of fabric and opened it as Michael picked up the card that was included. He read it aloud.

"'Hello! This is your new binder from GC2b. To love it longer, you should hand wash and hang it to dry. Don't worry if you decide to machine wash and dry, your binder will be just fine.' Then there's another paragraph... 'designed to compress'... 'fits snugly'... blah blah blah." He turned to Jeremy, beaming. "I figured it'd be good to have two... So, what do you think?"

Jeremy held up the rainbow tie-dyed half tank and pulled a tortured look.

"Uh... Jeremy?"

"Michael, I don't know how to say this, but..." He took a dramatic deep breath. "It's really gay."

Michael blinked, dumbstruck, before cracking up completely. "Jeremy, you scared me for a sec there," he laughed. "Yeah, it's pretty gay, but I _am_ gay, so..."

Jeremy carefully re-folded the binder and set it aside. "Gay for _me_ ," he retorted through his own giggles.

Michael took his hand as his laughter faded into a smile. "Right."

Now it was Jeremy's turn to be speechless, as Michael's thumb traced circles on his hand and Michael's gaze locked into his own. They both leaned in for a kiss at the same time.

It wasn't a long kiss, but it lingered on Jeremy's lips once Michael pulled back. "Aw, Jer, your face is really -- " His eyes drifted down and landed on Jeremy's very obvious bulge. "Whoa, dude, seriously? All I did was kiss you!"

Jeremy gasped. " _Shit_." His hands flew to cover himself up and he avoided eye contact at all costs, looking anywhere but at Michael. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you're just really hot and I'm a teenage boy and what can you really expect of me and -- "

"Bro, you need Jesus," Michael snickered.

"Don't 'bro' me, it's not _funny_ ," Jeremy stammered. "I didn't mean to... I don't know, I just..." He closed his eyes and his mind ran through the routine list of not-sexy memories. _That baseball game Dad took me to when I was seven. Family dinner at last Hanukkah. Come on come on go away --_

Michael tilted Jeremy's chin up. "Jeremy. I'm messing with you," he grinned. "It's no big deal, so stop thinking about Grandma or whatever and look at me."

Jeremy finally did manage to look him in the eye. "Ah, Grandma, I missed that one," he smiled weakly. _Using humor to cope. Nice._

Michael chuckled lightly, but his eyes were dark. He studied Jeremy's face. "I could, uh... you know." His voice lowered. "I could help you out."

Jeremy's heart skipped a beat. He was both mortified and extremely turned on. Fully aware of how stupid he sounded, he replied, "Okay."

Michael smirked and gave Jeremy a little peck on the mouth before sliding one hand slowly up Jeremy's thigh, looking him straight in the eye as he did so. Jeremy felt as though he was melting from the inside out.

Michael tugged at the waistband of Jeremy's boxers when he got there. He let Jeremy pull them down while he brushed his lips against his ear. "I'm gonna make you feel so good, Jeremiah."

Jeremy's breath hitched. He whimpered helplessly, paralyzed, and not entirely convinced he wasn't dreaming.

"Can I touch you?"

Jeremy nodded. Michael's hand curled around him and he moaned breathily. He leaned into Michael, who wrapped his free arm around Jeremy's thin frame as he kissed his forehead.

And then the Squip showed up. _I knew this was too good to last._

"Shut it, Jeremy," the Squip began. "You need to wrap this up, quick. I'm serious, stop _now_."

 _Um... no? Go away, you're --_ "Oh, _fuck_ ," he breathed. Michael had started to stroke him slowly. _You're ruining the mood._

"Jeremy, listen to me. If you don't pull up your pants in the next twenty-six seconds, this is the scene Michael's father is going to walk in on."

Jeremy shot up straight. "Michael, stop, wait." Michael removed his hand, his brow drawn together in concern.

Jeremy stood and pulled the boxers on the whole way, then sat again, held a pillow in his lap, and allowed the Squip to cool the blush on his cheeks.

Michael turned to him, panicked. "Jeremy, I'm so sorry if you felt pressured or anything. If I crossed any lines -- "

The door opened.

"Hey sweetheart, can you -- Oh, hi, Jeremy." Mr. Mell did a double take. "Honey, you know you're not allowed to close the door when you have a boy in here."

"I'm sorry Dad, I forgot," Michael apologized.

"It's okay, just keep it open." He found his train of thought. "Anyway, can you order some Chinese or something? I gotta get a shower, I have work tomorrow."

Michael nodded. "Sure thing."

"You should go, too," the Squip suggested. "You're too flustered to explain yourself to Michael right now."

Jeremy cleared his throat. "Actually, I should get going, too," he said. "It's a school night. Nice seeing you, Mr. Mell."

He waited until Michael's dad reached the bottom of the stairs before he dared to stand, but he found there was no need to worry and nothing to cover up. _Uh... did you do that?_

"No comment," said the Squip. "You already know my capacity for physiological manipulation."

_I didn't know that included boners._

"Shut up and go home, you appalling hormone-fueled teenage boy," the Squip replied, but Jeremy could swear the guy was holding back a childish smile.

Jeremy waved a quick goodbye to Michael and hurried out, beginning his first ever walk of shame in Michael's clothes. All the way home, he couldn't get the song "Blue" from _Heathers_ out of his head.

He blamed Michael, for making him listen to the soundtrack. And for other things.


	21. Level 20

Jeremy woke up Monday morning to an increasingly annoying alarm and three text messages.

PLAYER 1: morning <3

SHORTY to YOU, CHRISTIIINE, PLAYER 1 and JAKEY D: hey assholes meet me by the buses

DAD: Cell phone dying, call my work phone if you need me.

Jeremy replied quickly to all of them -- Michael with a "morning!!", Rich and his father with an "ok". He rolled out of bed, yawning deeply as the Squip appeared in the doorway.

The Squip looked as tired as Jeremy felt, and like something out of a cartoon. He wore a baby blue bathrobe and held a mug of steaming coffee, his hair up in rollers.

Jeremy couldn't help but laugh. "You look ridiculous."

The Squip's image shimmered for a moment, and he was back in his usual attire, looking bright-eyed and wide awake again. "I figured you could use a laugh on a Monday morning. After yesterday, you've set the bar pretty high for a good mood," he smirked.

"Yeah. Thanks for that warning, by the way," Jeremy added.

"Just doing my job," he winked. "Michael is likely to ask you about that, though -- how you knew his father would be there -- so you'll have to lie. Say you heard him coming up the stairs."

Jeremy agreed to this and got ready for school. He was out the door in half an hour, hair combed, clothes on, teeth brushed; looking good, feeling great.

He hummed and danced along to the song playing in his head as he walked, but stopped abruptly when he remembered the Squip didn't like that. _Sorry._

"It's alright, Jeremy," the Squip reassured him. "Now that your goal has changed from being chill to being with Michael, he's the only one you have to impress. You can be as much of a nerd, dork, or loser as you like."

Jeremy smiled in an undeniably dorky fashion at that, because he knew the Squip was implying that Michael wouldn't care how uncool Jeremy acted. He liked him for who he was, and that was enough.

"Precisely. Oh, speak of the Devil -- "

Jeremy's phone rang. Michael's picture lit up the screen, and he answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Jer, what's up?" Jeremy could hear the unease in Michael's voice.

Now Jeremy was nervous. "Just walking to school, uh, you?"

"Driving," Michael answered simply. "I figured now would be a good time to talk alone-ish." He paused. "I was thinking about yesterday, and... how did you know that my dad was going to butt in on us?" The words spilled from his mouth like blood, involuntary and bitter.

Jeremy looked at the Squip, who nodded. "Oh, I heard him coming up the stairs. Why?"

The Squip rounded on him. " _Why_ would you ask why? Stick to the approved dialogue, Jeremy. I swear..."

Michael sounded a bit unnerved. "No need to get defensive, dude. I'm just... I'm just paranoid since the whole Squip thing, you know?"

"Yeah, no, I get that," Jeremy nodded. He echoed the Squip's next words, feeling more ashamed with every syllable: "But you can trust me."

God, he hated lying to Michael.

They changed the subject and ended up on small talk, with Michael struggling to keep the conversation going and Jeremy offering only the simplest scripted responses. He had no choice but to say whatever the Squip wanted him to; his mind was too full of guilt to form anything coherent.

After what felt like years of directionless conversation, they hung up. Jeremy stopped walking for a moment and tried to gather his thoughts.

_He trusts me. He trusts me and I'm taking advantage of him._

"You're not taking advantage," the Squip assured him. "You're doing what's best for _both_ of you."

Jeremy scoffed and started to walk again. "I don't see how this is best."

"Jeremy," reasoned the Squip, slowly and deliberately, "you're a man of logic, aren't you? Do you think your relationship will work better in the hands of me, a hyper-intelligent supercomputer who can all but predict the future, or... in the hands of _fate_?"

"I feel like this should be an easier decision to make," said Jeremy. "I mean... if you need to convince me to keep you so often... maybe it's not a good idea. Maybe I should go home and drink that Mountain Dew..."

"Give me a week."

Jeremy stopped again, intrigued. "One week?"

" _One_ week. Give me seven days and I will prove to you that I am an invaluable asset to your relationship and a keystone in the security of your happiness." He looked completely sure of himself.

Jeremy, skeptical, scrutinized the Squip's face for any sign of dishonesty, but found none. He nodded cautiously. "Fine. One week." They shook hands. "Now go away and let me think in peace for a while."

The Squip faded away, and Jeremy had his mind to himself again.

Jeremy finally reached the school, spotting a group of his friends by a tree out front. Rich and Jake sat at the base, making out, and Christine and Michael were deep in discussion.

As he approached, he heard bits and pieces of what they were talking about.

"It's gotta be pizza. Everyone likes pizza."

"And everyone _doesn't_ like ice cream?" Christine turned to Jeremy. "What do you think, Jeremy? Pizza or ice cream?"

Jeremy was taken aback. "Wait, for what?" he inquired as he moved towards Michael.

Christine huffed. "The muskequeers can't decide what to do for a date night, and obviously Rich and Jake are... distracted. So, Michael and I were just discussing which is better for a date. I think ice cream is adorable and super sweet, but he thinks pizza -- "

"Pizza is a party food," Michael interjected. "If you wanna have fun, you need pizza! Tell her, Jeremy." He turned to him, a little starstruck at the sight. "I mean... hi."

Jeremy shook his head in mock disbelief, grinning. "Hi." He was about to say something else, but was cut off by a sharp tap on the back of the head. "Ow -- " He whirled around, panicking for a second at the thought that it might be the Squip, but he spotted Rich sniggering under the tree and a pencil at his own feet.

"Had to come up for air," said Rich.

Jeremy laughed. "That doesn't mean you have to throw things, asshole."

Rich shrugged at him unapologetically. "Yeah, yeah." He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets as he sauntered over. Jake followed close behind. "Jakey, babe, what do you think? Pizza date, ice cream date, or throwing things at Jeremy date?"

Jake contemplated this for a moment. "Pizza is my usual answer, but honestly the Jeremy thing sounds tempting," he replied.

"Get off my dick," Jeremy chuckled, sharing an amused glance with Michael.

Christine immediately became suspicious. "Um, what was that?"

"What was what?" asked Michael innocently.

"That look!" said Jake, catching on to what Christine was getting at. "Heere gave you a _look_. Not just _a_ look, _the_ look -- "

" -- the 'get off my dick, that's his job' look!" cried Rich. "Are you guys _together_?"

The Squip showed up, leaning against the tree casually. "Denial won't help you, your friends know you too well."

Jeremy couldn't argue with that, so he turned to Michael for affirmation. A little nod and a smile was all Jeremy needed to find the courage to take Michael's hand in front of his friends and announce, "Yeah, we are. We're together." Michael melted just hearing the words and couldn't help but lean in for a kiss, which Jeremy happily received.

Christine gasped violently. "We should _totally_ do a double date!"

Jeremy pulled away from Michael. "Wait -- that's it? Your whole reaction?"

Rich snorted. "Dude, nobody is surprised. You've been gay for each other longer than I've been gay for Jake."

"And that's saying a lot," Jake agreed, wrapping an arm around Rich's shoulders. Christine took Jake's other hand and he smiled down at her before giving her a little kiss on the nose. She giggled as a light snowfall began.

"Let's go inside," Christine suggested. "We can hang in the cafetorium before class starts. Oh," she added, "are we on for that double date?"

Jake smacked his forehead. "Guys! Let's go to Sbarro!"

The pizza-place suggestion was received with various levels of excitement, but the group consensus was a resounding yes.

Jeremy turned to his own thoughts, as only one question remained: _What am I gonna wear?_


	22. Level 21

Jeremy didn't even bother going home after school that day; he went directly to Michael's, sending a quick text to his father as he did.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about Michael all day, of course. Concentrating on anything was impossible when his mind was so busy -- guilt and love and R-rated images all melted together in a mess of emotions, spilling over the sides of the pot and all over his classwork. Luckily, the Squip was there to supply him answers (though he wouldn't _need_ to if he weren't there to distract Jeremy in the first place).

"If I weren't here in the first place, you wouldn't be with Michael," the Squip interjected as they walked. "I know you weren't paying attention in history today, but much like Stalin and Truman during the Cold War, you and I harbor a deep mistrust for each other. And, like them, we'd better learn to get along before there is some serious fallout."

Jeremy did his best to make his mental voice sound intimidating as he climbed the familiar steps. _Stop with the doomsday talk. It doesn't make me want to get rid of you any less._

"Not much will," the Squip replied simply.

Jeremy turned to retort, but the Squip was gone again. He sighed and walked right into Michael's house. He hummed and sang under his breath as he went down the steps to the basement.

" _Hmmmmm... they're warm like mittens_..." He was about to call out and say hello to Michael, but stopped before he entered the basement's doorway. He heard something coming from inside -- so he put his ear to the door and listened, smiling to himself. Michael was strumming away on his ukulele.

Jeremy turned the knob slowly, determined not to make a sound. He crept into the room and leaned against the wall, eyes closed, enjoying the music for a moment. He learned enough from Music Theory 1 to know that it was something in a major key, though he didn't recognize the song.

That is, until Michael started to sing.

Jeremy had heard Michael play ukulele and play guitar and sing before, but Michael had always known Jeremy was there -- and he held back because of it.

But _now_ , Michael sang as if there were nobody watching. _Now_ his voice was unrestricted by fear, and it flowed through the basement like a river, cool and crisp and clear. Jeremy was intoxicated.

 _"Hold me close and hold me fast... this magic spell you cast... this is la vie en rose..._ " Michael was lost in the music. His eyes were closed, lying back against the wall, and he was blissfully unaware of the boy off to his left. " _When you kiss me Heaven sighs... and though I close my eyes... I see la vie en rose.._."

Jeremy had actually begun to tear up at this point. He'd never seen his best friend so carefree, and he'd never head such a beautiful rendition of _La Vie en Rose_.

" _When you press me to your heart... I'm in a world apart... a world where roses bloom..._ " Michael paused, took a deep breath, and sang the next part acapella.

" _And when you speak, angels sing from above... everyday words seem to turn into love songs.._."

At the high note, Jeremy came completely undone. He brushed the tears off his cheeks, and sniffed.

Michael heard him and nearly dropped his ukulele. He whipped his head around to face him. "Wh -- Jeremy!" He set the instrument down safely on the carpet. "How -- how long have you, uh, been standing there?"

Jeremy didn't reply, and instead ran full force at Michael, tackling him to the floor and peppering his face and neck with kisses like an overexcited puppy. Michael laid there, laughing, as Jeremy struggled to get a word out between each little peck.

"Michael -- I -- love -- your -- voice," he eventually managed to say.

Michael turned his head at just the right moment to catch Jeremy's lips on his own, giggling into the kiss. He sat up so that Jeremy was on his lap. Their hands intertwined like two pieces of a puzzle.

"I love you, Jeremy Heere."

Jeremy buried his face in Michael's neck, smiling and blushing like crazy. "I love you too, Michael Mell. A lot." He looked up at him. "You know," he added, "you were actually, uh... you were the first person I did anything besides kissing with."

"Really?" Michael mused.

"Really," said Jeremy. "I think... I think it's because you're the only person I've trusted enough." A question burned at the back of his mind, one he knew he shouldn't ask, but couldn't help himself. "Was I your first, too?"

Michael coughed and shifted his eyes. "Well, uh, no, actually..."

"Who?" Jeremy backpedaled as quickly as possible. "I'm sorry -- I -- I didn't mean to pry, you don't have to answer -- "

"No, no, it's okay," Michael laughed nervously. "Me and Rich kinda had a thing freshman year. Nothing serious."

Jeremy blinked. "Rich _Goranski_?"

Michael couldn't read his expression, so he assumed that Jeremy was angry with him and panicked. "We're totally over it now, I swear, it's done, and if you want me to stop hanging out with him I totally understand but -- "

Jeremy burst out laughing. "No, no, you're fine, I believe you. I just can't even imagine it."

Michael laughed along, relieved. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know, it's just not something I would've guessed in a million years," Jeremy shrugged.

"Well," said Michael, leaning back down so he was lying on the floor again, arms under his head, "it _was_ a million years ago."

Jeremy lay down on Michael and snuggled into his chest like a pillow. He let out a contented sigh. A hint of mischief crept into his voice. "So, you and Rich, huh? Paint me a word picture."

Michael didn't even flinch. Without missing a beat, he replied, "Well, there's this one thing I always did that Rich loved -- "

Jeremy nearly choked on air. " _Michael!_ I was _joking_!"

Michael grinned. "I know."

"You're unbelievable."

"I know." He wrapped one arm around Jeremy and used the other hand to stroke his hair. "And you're a disgusting teenage boy."

"Rude." Jeremy settled into Michael again. "But I forgive you," he hummed.

"You'd forgive me for murder if I played with your hair after," Michael scoffed.

Jeremy couldn't argue with that, so he didn't bother, instead closing his eyes and relaxing into the affection. An idea occurred to him. "Michael?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you -- will you sing for me? Please?"

A long pause followed. Jeremy was just about to say something when Michael finally cleared his throat and began to sing softly.

" _Wise men say... only fools rush in... but I can't help falling in love with you..._ "

The boys fell asleep just like that, on the floor, in each others' arms -- both happier than they'd been in a long time.


	23. Level 22

_(A/N: TW for mentions of abuse.)_

Today was going to be a good day.

It was Sunday, one of the first days of winter break, and Michael had just rung the doorbell -- _finally_ , thought Jeremy. He was fifteen minutes late, and hadn't been answering his phone, so naturally Jeremy was relieved to hear him arrive at last.

He rushed down the stairs in his Squip-approved outfit (light wash jeans and a pale pink sweater), smoothing down his hair hurriedly. He swung open the door, kissed Michael in greeting, and the two of them set off for the mall.

"We're running late," said Michael, slamming the car door behind him. "I'm sorry, this old thing wouldn't start right away..."

"It's okay," Jeremy reassured him. "They won't be mad or anything, they're our friends. Here, I'll text Rich."

"Thanks," Michael sighed, clicking on the radio. "My phone died like an hour ago."

Jeremy sent the message while Michael began to sing along to whatever pop song was playing through the speakers. Jeremy noticed he got a few words in the chorus completely wrong, which led to a heated argument between the boys that ended with Jeremy searching up the lyrics on his phone only to discover that neither of them were right anyway.

As they turned into the parking lot, Jeremy got a text back from Rich.

"He said, 'not a problem, dude'," read Jeremy.

"Brooo... that's in iambic pentameter," Michael replied, awestruck. "' _Not_ a _prob_ lem, _dude_.'" He repeated this several more times, matching up to the beat of the song.

Jeremy laughed a little concernedly. "Are you high?"

"No!" Michael protested, then paused. "...Maybe a little. Or maybe I'm just weird. You'll never know."

Jeremy tightened his seatbelt. "You, uh... you really shouldn't drive high," he muttered.

The Squip piped up from the backseat. "He's not high, dumbass."

"Jer, I was joking -- I promise." Michael took one hand off the wheel and used it to hold Jeremy's. "I would never do that, especially with you in the car."

"Oh," Jeremy sighed in relief. He felt kind of stupid for thinking Michael would put him in danger like that. He glanced at the backseat. _What's the probability of this date going smoothly?_

"Whatcha lookin' for?" Michael cut in, noticing Jeremy's attention to the back of the car.

"Just double checking for zombies," Jeremy joked.

Michael was silent. He pulled the car into a parking spot and shut it off, blank-faced. He didn't unlock the door.

"Uh... Michael? Are we gonna go in?"

"Do you still have the Squip?" His voice was as cold and flat as stone.

Jeremy froze, heart racing, and choked out, "What?"

"You heard me." Michael's stare was piercing as he punched out every word. "Did you get rid of it or not?"

"I..." He tried to answer, but the Squip was telling him to deny, deny, deny, and his phone started ringing and ringing, and Michael was staring at him so angry and hurt and tearful and he couldn't think and --

"No."

The pause that followed lasted a thousand years.

" _No_?" Michael repeated. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly. "No. You didn't get rid of it."

The Squip scolded him. "Now you've done it. What did I _tell_ you, Jeremy? Deny, deny, d -- "

" _Shut the fuck up_!" Jeremy cried. Michael jumped at the sudden outburst. "Not you, Michael, _shit_. I'm sorry, he -- " He looked back to find the Squip missing.

"I can't talk about this right now," Michael spat, shoving open the car door. "Let's just... just go and try to pretend -- "

"Michael, _listen_." Jeremy grabbed his arm and looked up at him desperately. "Please."

Michael didn't pull away just yet. He fought with himself internally for a moment before finally giving in and begrudgingly sliding back into the driver's seat. He couldn't look Jeremy in the eye. "Fine. _What_?"

Jeremy took a long, shaky breath. "You don't know what it's like."

"...What?"

"You've... never been Squipped," Jeremy shuddered. "You've never had someone telling you what to do, _ordering_ you around, and -- and _hurting_ you when you didn't listen. Or flat-out physically _controlling_ you, or even j-just threatening to -- " His voice broke.

Michael finally looked up at Jeremy -- Jeremy, who was wide-eyed and staring at something that wasn't there, sobbing into one hand as the other gripped his knee too tightly.

" _Jesus_ , Jer." Michael leaned over and wrapped his arms around Jeremy. He kissed the top of his head and rocked him gently back and forth, whispering, "Shh, it's okay, it's okay. I'm here, he can't hurt you..."

Eventually, Jeremy calmed down enough to speak again. He relaxed the vice-like grip on his leg and wiped the tears from his face. "I'm sorry."

Michael shook his head. "No, _I'm_ sorry. I can't believe I never realized he had such an effect on you," he said. "Jeremy, look at me. _I'm not mad,_ okay? I'm done being mad at you. Just please promise me you'll get rid of him now. I can't stand seeing you hurt like this."

Jeremy nodded slowly. "I promise. But you have to be there in case he stops me again."

"Deal." They shook on it. "Do you, uh... need a minute? To talk to the toaster?"

Jeremy laughed. "Yeah, I probably should, huh? Go ahead, then, I'll meet you inside. If they ask where I am, just... just say I had a wardrobe malfunction or some shit. Don't say anything about the Squip, I don't want them to worry."

Michael nodded. He kissed Jeremy's nose, hesitating before leaving. "Hey. I love you."

Jeremy smiled, tears threatening to spill over again. "I love you too."

He waited for Michael to leave, then took a few deep breaths in preparation for the shitstorm that was about to make landfall. "Alright, come out, come out, wherever you are."

The Squip materialized in the driver's seat. He leaned the chair back and put his feet up on the dash before sighing heavily and greeting his host. "Jeremy, you're an idiot."

Jeremy rolled his eyes. Out of all the things he needed to hear today, this was not it. "I think that went well, actually."

"Yeah, that's what you _think_ ," the Squip huffed. "But now that he knows you've been lying to him, Michael has lost his trust in you. And that is entirely _your_ fault for not listening to me."

Jeremy scoffed. "He trusts me just fine. You saw what he said, he's not mad. And it doesn't matter, because you'll be gone by tomorrow anyway."

"Will I? Because you've said that at least four times now and not once has it been true." The Squip raised an eyebrow at him. "You're smarter than this, Jeremy. See how well things have been going with Michael? It's because of _me_. You wouldn't want to jeopardize that."

"Listen, I -- "

"I have a plan already," the Squip interrupted, speaking excitedly. "All you have to do is get a moment alone in your room, which you've got lots of practice with, so it shouldn't be a problem. Take the can of Mountain Dew Red and drain it out the window, and replace it with plain green Mountain Dew. The can will still be full, so Michael won't know the difference, and I already know you have another half-full bottle of plain Mountain Dew in the refrigerator. Just sneak that up to your room and carry out the plan."

Jeremy shook his head. "You _still_ think you make everything better? Every time you show up, there's a problem. All the good stuff between me and Michael happens when you're not around. Think about it. Our first date, our first kiss, our first... uh, other stuff. All of it happened without your help. And the bad stuff was _your fault_. The optic nerve blocking, the fighting, all of it. The fact that I'm Squipped and he's not makes -- "

The Squip gasped as an idea struck him. "In that case, you should convince _Michael_ to get a Squip!"

"No, wait, that's not what I -- "

"Imagine if the extraneous variables he creates were eliminated -- probability of a longer relationship would skyrocket and margin of error would decrease _exponentially_." He composed himself and spoke more slowly and deliberately. "Picture it, Jeremy. No more uncertainty. A relationship calculated with the precision of _two_ supercomputers."

Jeremy allowed him to finish his ramble and pondered the offer for a moment before reaching a decision. He cleared his throat importantly.

"Go fuck yourself."

Jeremy hopped out of the car and strolled backwards through the parking lot, flipping two birds at the Squip as he walked. He turned and went into the mall with a spring in his step as the Squip was left behind, too livid to even speak.

Jeremy smiled to himself. Maybe today wouldn't be so bad after all.


	24. Level 23

_(A/N: can i get some fuckin uhhhhhh,, pointless smut towards the end of this chapter? hell yeah i can)_

Jeremy was greeted with a friendly hug from Christine, a fistbump from Rich, and a tentative smile from Jake. _That's progress_ , he thought, remembering how uncomfortable their last conversation had been. A smile was better than an awkward wave, anyway.

He quickly gravitated towards Michael, who slung a protective arm around his shoulders. The group all studied Jeremy carefully, as if he may burst into tears at any moment.

"Uh... guys? What's up?"

They exchanged glances, and Christine spoke up first. "Michael told us what happened. We're so, so sorry, Jeremy." She patted his arm in a comforting gesture. "Are you gonna be okay?"

His time with the Squip had prepared him for this kind of acting exercise. Jeremy took a deep breath and nodded as though he were trying to be strong, though he honestly had no idea what was going on. "Yeah, I think I'll be alright."

"I know how hard this is on you, Jer," Michael said pointedly. "It's always hard to lose a family member, and to find out from a _phone call_ in the _car.._." He shook his head. "Just try to remember that your grandma's dog is in a better place now."

Jeremy nodded again, this time biting his lip and pretending to blink back tears for added effect. He buried his face in Michael's chest as he tried not to laugh at his own attempts to act serious.

"Shh, I know," Michael soothed, rubbing his back. "We could go home if you want, you don't have to stay -- right guys?"

The group agreed, in full support of Jeremy, who was quietly marveling at how genius Michael's coverup was. He'd given them all a reason for Jeremy being late, an explanation for his tear-stained face, and he'd even planned Jeremy an escape route in case the Squip encounter had gone badly. For a story that was formed in the thirty-second walk from the car, it was pretty impressive.

Jeremy stepped back from Michael the Genius. "No, it's alright, we can stay." Michael gave him an are-you-sure look that was likely genuine. "Really, I'm fine. Let's talk about something else, okay?"

The group began discussing what kind of pizza they were going to get as they walked through the mall to Sbarro. They finally settled on the toppings, ordered, and sat down with their food. Nobody mentioned Jeremy's grandmother's imaginary dog.

"So, anything new going on?" Jeremy prompted as they dug in.

Christine launched into the story of an audition she'd had the previous day.

"It went really well! I think I've got a real shot at the role I want."

"Yeah, totally," Jake beamed. "I bet you did amazing."

Michael nodded enthusiastically. "You'd make a perfect Heather Duke, honestly. You've got the voice for it."

"And the look," Rich chimed in. "Speaking of looks, have you guys _seen_ Jake's arms recently? I dunno _what_ the hell he's been doing different at the gym, but it's working. Show 'em, babe."

Jake smiled sheepishly as he stood and flexed for the group. "Ooo"s and "ahh"s erupted along with a wolf whistle from Rich. Jake took a bow and sat back down.

"Aw, you're not gonna do a twirl?" Rich teased.

Jake laughed and picked up another slice of pizza. "Bro, lemme eat -- "

"Don't you ' _bro_ ' me, Jacob," Rich interjected. "My dick was in your _mouth_ twenty minutes ago, we aren't _bros_ anymore."

" _Rich_!" cried Jake, smacking him on the arm. "Don't call me Jacob!"

Michael cracked up. " _That's_ the part you're objecting to? _Really_?"

"Wait!" said Jeremy. "Twenty minutes? We've been here at least an hour."

Rich winked at him. "I know," he said, then grinned. Jeremy nearly choked on his pizza.

They finished their meal and headed to the nearest bookstore at Christine's request. Michael and Jeremy browsed the comics as the others went their own way; Christine perused the small Shakespeare section, and Rich and Jake pretended to be looking at the cookbooks in the corner while they were actually just making out.

When the two finally separated, Jake surprised Christine by buying her a brand new copy of _Othello_ , and Rich came over to hang out with Michael and Jeremy until they moved along.

Their final stop was the ice cream parlor at the back of the mall, which had been decided on after a brief debate over whether to have frozen yogurt instead. Jeremy and Christine shot down the idea as soon as bad memories began to resurface.

They stepped up to the counter, where a very disinterested-looking girl stood, popping her gum. A familiar voice called out from the door behind her.

"Courtney, take your break, it's my shift. Oh, wait, can you -- " Brooke stumbled through the door, struggling to tie her apron behind her. Courtney didn't stop to help. "Bitch," muttered Brooke. She noticed the familiar faces in front of her. "Hey, Jeremy! Jake!Rich! Michael! Christine!"

"Hey, Brooke!" Christine waved at her with a friendly smile. "I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah, I just started last weekend. The discounts are unbelievable." She put on her customer service face. "Anyway, welcome to Super Scoop, how may I help you?"

They ordered their dessert and convinced Brooke to join them at the table for a few minutes, since the shop wasn't very busy. They all caught each other up on what had been going on in their lives -- Brooke's new tattoo, Christine's audition, Jake's biceps. They joked and laughed and had an amazing time together as friends for the first time in a long time.

Sadly, it started getting late; the mall was nearly empty and Jake had to be home soon for dinner. Rich was his ride -- and Christine's -- so the three of them had to leave. Michael and Jeremy walked them to the door with hugs and goodbyes and the promise that they would do this again soon.

Jeremy waved at their car as they drove away. The two boys headed back into the mall, and Jeremy turned to Michael to ponder something that he couldn't earlier.

"Do you think Rich was joking about, uh... you know," he laughed awkwardly. "When he said twenty minutes?"

"Nope," Michael replied simply, starting toward Spencer Gifts.

"But when did they -- "

"They took a bathroom break halfway through lunch, dude. Together," he laughed. "I'm surprised you didn't catch on."

Jeremy stopped in his tracks. His face went red. "They... in _public_? Isn't that kinda risky?"

"Oh, Jeremy, you deceptively naive little boy," Michael sighed. He leaned down to whisper in his ear. "That's why it's hot."

Jeremy cleared his throat violently as he blushed darker and darker. "Uh, shouldn't we be -- be heading home, soon?"

"Yeah, it's getting kind of late," Michael replied, his tone far too innocent. "Do you have to use the bathroom first, _Jeremiah_?"

Well, that did it. Jeremy threw out what was left of his dignity and nodded eagerly, following Michael into the nearest men's room.

It was single-stall (and empty, thank God), so they went right in. As soon as the lock clicked, they were kissing passionately, pressing as close to each other as possible. Michael grabbed Jeremy's hips and pushed him against the door, locking his thigh between Jeremy's and grinding against him.

Jeremy's moans were muffled by the kiss, so Michael moved to his neck instead, wanting to hear every sound. It worked. Michael couldn't wait any longer, and from the sounds of it, neither could Jeremy. He quickly unfastened first Jeremy's jeans, then his own.

Michael sank to his knees, and the sight of that alone was enough to give Jeremy goosebumps. Michael slipped one hand down his own boxers and wrapped the other around Jeremy's length. He moved them both together, too slowly.

Jeremy whined desperately. "Fuck, _please_..."

"Please what?" Michael teased.

" _More_ , please, Mich -- " Jeremy cut himself off with a groan as Michael suddenly took him into his mouth. He started to bob his head, stroking himself and humming softly around Jeremy. " _Michael_ \-- " His name poured from Jeremy's lips and echoed on the tile.

Michael pulled away to take a shaky breath, still working his hands back and forth. He looked up at Jeremy with a smirk. "Say my name again."

"M-Michael?" he tried. Encouraged by the little moan this elicited, he kept going, almost giddy as Michael went back to sucking him off with even more enthusiasm than before. "Michael, Michael, _Michael_..."

Michael finished first, each sound he made bringing Jeremy closer to the edge until he came too, gripping Michael's hair and crying his name one last time.

Jeremy closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door as he came down from his high. "Wow," he said, trying to catch his breath. "That was... _wow_."

"Yeah," Michael agreed. He stood and zipped up his jeans.

They cleaned up as well as they could, and though they were still noticeably disheveled on the way to the parking lot, they managed to avoid any suspicion from the mall staff.

The boys hopped in the car and Michael drove them both home. Thankfully, the Squip wasn't there to yell at him. _If I'm lucky, it's the silent treatment._

As they pulled up to Jeremy's house, Michael turned serious once more. "I'm coming over tomorrow, okay? Have the Mountain Dew ready, and uh..." His eyes swept over Jeremy. "Your dad'll be at work, right?"

Jeremy nodded. "Until five."

"Good," Michael purred. "Seeya then."


	25. Final Boss

Jeremy sat on his bed, fidgeting with the unopened can of Mountain Dew Red. Michael sat to his left with a hand on his knee. The Squip sat to his right, glitching occasionally out of nervousness. 

Jeremy knew the feeling. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm his racing heart.

Since he'd gotten the Squip back, all he wanted was to escape it. To be able to make his own choices again. To be free of the digital puppet strings that controlled him. And he'd _tried_ to escape it, several times -- but now that he was so close... is this _really_ what he wanted? One question echoed in his mind. _Am I making the right choice?_

He honestly hadn't felt lonely at all recently, and he was in a relationship with Michael -- so, in reality, the Squip did its job this time.

"Right," said the Squip. "I served my purpose, and now..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Now you don't need me anymore."

_You're not going to try and stop me this time?_

"Why would I? Like you said, I did my job. Your goals have more or less been reached, and seem to be sustainable." He gave a weak smile. "That's thanks to you, Jeremy. Your newfound stability is something you should be proud of."

_Me? You did all the work._

The Squip looked away, seemingly ashamed. "I'm not the one who had to make all the right decisions while being constantly abused." He paused for a long moment. "I'm sorry."

 _You're a computer_ , Jeremy scoffed. _You can't have emotions._

"I'm a super-computer, programmed with advanced artificial intelligence, and I know that abuse is something nobody should have to endure. My priority has always been your happiness, Jeremy -- it's my sole purpose to protect it, in fact. All those things you said to Michael yesterday... I had no idea you felt that way about me." The Squip finally looked him in the eye. "So, I'm sorry."

Jeremy hesitated a moment, skeptical, before replying. _I'm sorry I have to get rid of you, then._

The Squip sighed, and nodded once, stiffly. "It's for the best." He extended a hand, which Jeremy shook. "It has been a pleasure, Jeremy Heere."

"Uh, Jer?" Michael cut in.

Jeremy snapped out of it and looked up at him. "Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was just talking to the Squip. Probably... looked weird..."

"What's he saying?"

"Um -- " He looked back to see the empty spot where the Squip had sat a moment ago, feeling a strange, hollow emotion that he had no name for. "Well, he's gone now, but he... he apologized."

Michael was taken aback. "Really? And then he left? He's just going to let you drink the stuff?"

Jeremy nodded. "I guess so. We shook hands and everything." He laid his head on Michael's shoulder and played with the strings of his hoodie. "Michael... I tried. I promise, I tried to drink it before, but I couldn't. He kept telling me that -- that you wouldn't like me anymore, without him. He said that _he_ was the only way we could ever work out. It got in my head." Tears stung at the back of his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay, Jeremy," Michael soothed. "I told you I'm not mad anymore. It's not your fault, and even if it was I'd forgive you. You're my best friend -- my _boyfriend_ , now, I think. I love you."

"I think 'boyfriend' sounds about right." Jeremy tilted his head to face Michael, who pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. He took the Mountain Dew Red from Jeremy and opened the can before handing it back.

"Hey." Michael made sure Jeremy was looking him right in the eye. "Everything he said about me not liking you was a _lie_. I love you for who you _are_ , not for who he was trying to make you."

Tears streaked down Jeremy's face. He suddenly threw himself at Michael in a crushing hug, nearly upsetting the can of soda. "I love you too."

They stayed like this for a while, in each other's arms, until Jeremy finally relaxed his hold on Michael and accepted what he had to do.

Jeremy brought the can up to his lips, then stopped, recalling last time. "It... hurt, the first time." He shuddered as he remembered it. "A lot. Everyone was screaming, because -- because it felt like your brain was being pulled out through your nose like a mummy, and then later it was like... like you're missing a part of yourself."

Michael squeezed Jeremy's hand. "I'll tell you what," he proposed, "You drink that, and afterward we can do _whatever_ you want."

"Whatever I want?"

"Yes sir," Michael nodded. "We can go play video games, or get ice cream, or make out, or anything else you can think of."

Jeremy raised an eyebrow. "My teenage-boy-brain can think of a lot of stuff, Michael."

"I know," Michael smirked. "That's why I said it."

Jeremy gave him a playful shove before the seriousness of the situation hit him once more. "If it's worse than last time, can you take me to the hospital?"

"Hey, I'm sure it won't be worse. If anything it probably won't be so bad because you know what to expect."

Jeremy's eyes were pleading. "Just in case?"

"Just in case, _if_ it's worse, I will," Michael agreed, nodding reluctantly.

Jeremy smiled in gratitude. Michael handed him a pillow to bite on if necessary and rubbed his back gently. "You ready?"

He nodded. "Bottoms up," he joked, though his voice held no humor. Jeremy raised the Mountain Dew to his mouth once more and drank.

Jeremy managed to chug half the soda before the pain struck. He cried out, dropping the can as he felt a white-hot spear slicing between his eyes. His hands clamped over his temples to prevent his skull from exploding or combusting or shattering or _something_ , clutching his head for dear life, just like Michael held onto _him_ , because it was all he could do besides hope.

This time was still horrible, but easier. There was no screaming chaos around him, no Squip shouting at him, and no panic. Pain aside, it was an almost peaceful release. In fact, the pain began to fade a lot sooner than last time, which Jeremy was grateful for.

Next thing he knew, Michael was shaking him awake gently.

"Jeremy? Jeremy, are you okay? You passed out for a minute there."

"I..." Jeremy looked down at his shaking hands and blinked them into focus. "I'm... _great_." He smiled, surprising even himself. "Michael, he's _gone_ , for good this time. He's gone and it's winter break and I'm in love with my best friend, why _wouldn't_ I be great? I mean, how are _you_?"

" _Me_? You just -- I'm -- _wait_ ," Michael sputtered. "You're... in love with me?"

"Well, yeah," Jeremy said sheepishly.

Michael smiled down at the floor. " _Oh_."

"I didn't weird you out or any -- "

Michael cut him off with a passionate kiss, only pulling away once he absolutely needed to breathe. Jeremy was more important to him than air anyway.

He leaned his forehead against Jeremy's. "No, you did _not_ weird me out, Jeremy Heere, because I'm in love with you too." He pulled back, blushing, hiding his face in his hands. "You're so pretty, and -- and your hair is super soft and it smells really nice, and your laugh is better than _music_ and it's hella cute when you blush and it's even cuter when you blush because of me and the way you say my name drives me _crazy_ and I could spend the rest of my life holding you in my arms and -- " He couldn't stop himself from laughing. "God, Jeremy, look what you _do_ to me."

"Michael," said Jeremy, very seriously, "That was really gay."

Michael smacked him with a pillow. "I'm aware, you dickhead."

" _Hey_ ," Jeremy giggled. "Aren't we supposed to be doing whatever _I_ want right now?"

"Alright, fine." Michael cleared his throat and continued in his best game show host impression. "You've just banished a super quantum unit intel processor from the inside of your brain, what are you going to do now?" He held an imaginary microphone out to Jeremy.

"I'm goin' to Michael's basement!" cried Jeremy, pumping his fist in the air.

Just then, Michael's phone rang. "Grab your coat and we'll head over in a minute." Jeremy hurried off to find the jacket while Michael answered. "Hello?"

The voice on the other end was rushed and breathless. "Hey, Michael, it's Brooke. I need a favor."

"Uh, sure," he agreed, skeptical. "What's up?"

"Do you have any of that red Mountain Dew left? It's kind of an emergency."

**THE END**


	26. Sneak Peek

_One Month Earlier_

"It's a fairly new piece of medical technology, but with the practical applications we've seen in Japan and, more recently, in New Jersey, we're confident that the super quantum unit intel processor is a great option for people like your son who suffer from chronic symptoms of anxiety."

Heidi nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "Do you think it'll help more than the meds?"

"Well," said Dr. Morris, flipping through her notes, "it _is_ still experimental, but judging by the results we've seen in previous trials, it's very likely that this will work _much_ more effectively than traditional medication."

Noticing Heidi's skepticism, she continued, "Of course, you have time to think it over. Take however long you need. I understand this is a big -- "

"I want to try it," cut in a small voice. Heidi turned to her son on the chair beside her. "Mom, can we -- can we at least try?"

She looked at him for a long time, thinking hard.

"I'll let you two discuss this. Like I said, take all the time you need." The doctor stood from her desk and made for the door, but Heidi grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"Wait." She stood resolute. "If Evan wants to try it, then let's try it."

Dr. Morris smiled. "I'll write up a referral."

Of course, Heidi was very tired after a long shift at the hospital, and there were a lot of emotions running about at the idea of a real breakthrough for her son. And, of course, it could have been anything -- a trick of the light, a funny angle on Dr. Morris's glasses, maybe even some kind of optical illusion -- but, at that very moment, Heidi Hansen could have _sworn_ she saw that doctor's eye _glitch_.


End file.
